


The Cafeteria

by Aines445



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Gen, Hibari and Kusakabe Get a Taste of Elderly Wisdom, If you thought Hibari's chapter was long wait until you read Kusakabe's, Told from the Future, Two-Shot, character study of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 07:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 60,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14828291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aines445/pseuds/Aines445
Summary: How many years had passed since then is a fact only Tetsuya Kusakabe knows clearly, but there used to be a cafeteria in Namimori Middle School.





	1. Kyoya Hibari

**Author's Note:**

> This story has a chapter for Hibari's perspective and another for Kusakabe's, forming the two-shot. The first one up is Hibari's because I might as well start mysterious, and Kusakabe's will basically complement it. It's my first time posting here so I don't have a clue how good or bad my tags and whatnot are, to be honest. Hopefully it's alright! Anyway, do enjoy!

How many years had passed since then is a fact only Tetsuya Kusakabe knows clearly, but there used to be a cafeteria in Namimori Middle School. Located on the ground floor, near the stairs to the first on the other side had been a wide room with rows upon rows of tables that now were separated by thick concrete walls, its functions replaced with other classrooms for committees. The faculty office was nearby, but the teachers cared little about the renovation and certainly did not dare to ask considering it had not been the principal's idea.

Sometimes, students would complain. Having to go outside every lunch break to buy their lunch was a trip they would have preferred not wasting their time on, and a spot where friends could gather with guaranteed lunch was nothing if not an advantage, though other schools used to the facility would utter otherwise in light of the quality of the food. Now, there was the roof, if the head prefect was not there; the courtyard, where few seats could be found to enjoy a meal comfortably; and the classrooms, the student body's main spot by far, but it was lacking. At one point, about two years before one Tsunayoshi Sawada had entered the school, there was uproar on the matter of a cafeteria, proposed to the only committee that held authority over the school, surpassing even the principal.

The Disciplinary Committee had no qualms about outright refusing the request for a cafeteria, and all voices of protest against the Disciplinary Committee had ceased in but a week through force. Even so, the protests were enough to breed an already underlying resentment for the Disciplinary Committee, which had culminated in one attempt at Kyoya Hibari on the following year, costing a boxing match for one future Sun Guardian. Regardless, Hibari's decision was final and Kusakabe had no objections, and had not been allowed to voice them if he did.

_The cafeteria would never return. Hibari would make sure of that._

Thinking back on that mental assertion strictly of the past is a tall young man gazing at his school from afar, as it stands proud on the town of Namimori, peaceful as always; just as he had left it. Travelling the world is interesting in its own right, but it cannot be compared to appreciating his beautiful town, the embodiment of his ideals. Now, years after he had graduated, a grown Kyoya Hibari sometimes comes to reminisce the highlights of his school years as he walks through the streets of Namimori calmly and quietly, alone to his leisure.

Alone to remember the cafeteria, which was no more of his own volition.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

The year was unknown. Not even Hibari remembered his own age by that point, but it was a time the Disciplinary Committee was just as strongly enforced as ever, and the peace unquestionable. Hibari's null class attendance afforded him the advantage of avoiding all crowds as he wandered the school building, usually on the grounds of a patrol. Though, approximately two hours before the student body's official lunch break, Hibari would walk with another objective, and the patrol was just a bonus to the itinerary of descending floors and approaching the other wing of the school to reach for the cafeteria.

That had been a time Kyoya Hibari could simply bring no lunch to school, and when he had no need to demand one out of Kusakabe. Naturally, the chairman had far better things to do than to buy one himself, or even to cook of all things, so he had willingly decided to rely on the school's own resources; the lunches of the cafeteria. Stocked with high-class ingredients if only because Hibari was a resident visitor, the cafeteria had considerable popularity with the student body, but Hibari was not one to mingle with the crowds of rowdy, eating students, and not even he felt the need to bite every single student to death on an empty stomach every week day.

He pushed the door open, flimsily so, and neglected to close it behind him almost as if he were too familiarized with Kusakabe doing so in his stead. He would walk ahead in sound, clear steps, his natural composure of nonchalance never wavering, even as he spotted the usual staff sending him glances of anxiety. Four other women were still better than dozens upon dozens of students if they made a point not to disturb him, so he was neutral as he walked to the modest counter, able to watch one of the women warning a short elderly woman with a hunched back of Hibari's usual presence. Hibari had not bothered showing further signs of being there, and, now near the counter, he simply awaited the input of the old woman who had turned around in a quarter of a moment and treaded to the counter unfazed.

She did not even need to squint to know who it was, and he was not especially impatient, knowing she was slow by nature. Her height barely surpassed the counter, her body ommitted from the neck down, and her wrinkly features were telling of her age. She frowned unceremoniously, almost as if unimpressed by Hibari, and Hibari himself did not appear offended by her apathy; it was amusing, even. He would reflexively smile, slyly as always, and watch the elderly woman whose name he never did remember utter the fewest words: "The usual?" No politeness; no rudeness: it was simple sagely wisdom that had her refrain from fearing the tyrant of the school, and it was not ill-received. The woman's eyebrows were arched in light attentiveness to Hibari's expression, and she saw him shake his head just as calmly and slowly as the old lady, and not because he was that much older than the average middle schooler. He only happened to be aloof enough to act at his own pace, which matched the old woman's at peaceful times such as now.

"I'm thinking of a change in menu," Hibari said in a tentative fashion, laced with the light toxicity of a taunt. "How does duck sound to you?" The women by the kitchens would hear him perfectly, and they would immediately whisper among each other of the daring demeanour of that 'outrageous middle schooler' who seemed to practically control the school for reasons unknown; Hibari had always been able to hear them, of course. However, his focus was never on the herbivores that were hardly worth his time, but on the reaction of the elderly woman older than even the school.

She would bite her lip at first, pondering on Hibari's words with added meticulousness, but Hibari was thankfully patient enough to wait that minute out. Then, the corners of her lips would curve in a smile not quite confident or content, but not meek nonetheless. A wry sort of smile rested on her face, unfitting of her beady eyes coloured black, and she commented, "You ask a lot out of a middle school." As always, she could add some time or another, but it never did matter to Hibari.

"Are you saying you can't do it?" Hibari retorted easily and effortlessly, much like the other times he would hear that first round of a non-protest; a mere expression of the old lady's opinion. She huffed, and he knew immediately that she was not being convinced as much as she had always been convinced to begin with.

"Don't look down on me just because I'm short," she shot back with earned defiance that accompanied her folded arms, which Hibari only could note because he had been behind that counter before to see her do it. "How many years do you think I've been your personal cook for?" It was an irrelevant question, adding only to the interaction despite being meaningless in nature.

"Who knows? I don't remember trivial things like that," Hibari said, the same song and dance. Vaguely amusing interactions such as those were commonplace, but the needlessly prideful edge in the woman's behaviour practically warranted the carefree retorts that came to him thoughtlessly, if only to see a negative reaction. He would often spot the terse creasing of her eyebrows whenever he displayed his general apathy for situations intensify the more he continued, and even now, it was no different.

"Enough for you to get me a raise, that's how much," she answered in a dry manner, as only a half-hearted hypothesis. Something she did not truly demand out of Hibari, though Hibari himself was more or less of equal status to the principal.

In that sense, her lackluster counter was a good way to avoid seeming insolent in the eyes of the prefect, since she did not truly mean to impose herself on him. It was something she was good at, really; never truthfully interfering with Hibari's business. Conversely, Hibari found it easy to say, "Why not simply retire by now?"

It was then that half-baked displeasure was no longer evident in her features, and Hibari would notice perhaps the fewest moments of resolution in her expression. Her lightly squinted eyes as if focusing on something important widened the twinkling light in her eyes, and she smiled with the simplicity of any instinct after less than a moment of thought processing Hibari's tried and tested question. "I'd die before being taken away from this school," she would always state, "Nothing you don't know already." And in truth, he did know that. It was another reason he would engage her to begin with.

Hibari would concede then with a wider smirk than before, and shrug. "I'll be waiting."

"Yeah, you sit tight on that corner, why don't you?" she audibly muttered, turning back with unexpected quickness. Meanwhile, Hibari would watch the warrior on her own battlefield, and find appreciation in the fact that his school could house someone who would meet his demands so easily. As expected of someone more knowledgeable on its History than even the current principal, he would think to himself with an elegant nod of his head, caught by the few women who would get snapped at by their elderly boss for their absent-minded staring of 'that boy', a complete enigma to them. The old lady, however, saw no enigma anywhere, and focused only on cooking, on being challenged and rising up to his expectations, all of it despite her age. An old, weak animal she was, she did happen to have developed the tools necessary for her own survival, and Hibari never shied away from convenient individuals.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Another unknown day of an unknown year, marked only by an event of instability in his school that carved the moment in his memory. "The usual?" Even so, the cafeteria routine remained more or less the same. That time, however, Hibari did not object to the usual question.

"I'm not in a good mood today," he said almost as if to warn the lady before she would overstep her boundaries, "so make it quick." Hibari's necessity to take matters into his own hands only contributed to his impatience, but he hardly felt any obligation to tell a simple cafeteria lady of circumstances that not only displeased him, but did not concern her. She certainly would not wonder, or ask questions, or show curiosity. In fact, her slowness was the same as always, and the only visible change to her expression upon hearing the near-threat was a slight twitch in her frown.

"It's done when it's done," she retorted, claiming only the obvious before a Hibari less than understanding of any possible logic. "Make it so the waiting calms those urges of yours." As such, Hibari's gaze narrowed dangerously, but his weapons remained out of his direct grasp as he thought on the woman's usefulness. He did know that the others were not quite as skilled at cooking as she was.

He could have thought of that one fluttering second or another, but no such things mattered with Hibari as the prominent mental image of the vandalized wall of the school's gymnasium was fresh on his mind. His frown deepened, and he merely asked as a final word of caution, "Do you really think you can give orders to me?"

"Fire me if you're so miffed," was her quick answer, unlike her usual slow demeanour. "No use bullying the old lady on a whim now, is there?" Her eyebrows were lightly raised, conveying doubt, as if expecting better out of Hibari. It was something he could note in a coherent fashion, a direct, concrete action that had more worth to Hibari than words. Only after considering that stance, unrelenting like the inevitability of the weather did Hibari begin to think through her statements, taking about a quarter of a second of mere staring to realize the waste of time he himself was causing by arguing with the older figure.

Now, Hibari was the one to huff as he headed for the usual seat by the corner, leaving her only with the muttered affirmation: "I'll only calm down after I can leave this place." In other words, after eating lunch. Phrased as an objective fact but lightly implying a challenge, he would have expected the woman to react the same wry, but competitive way as usual, though he was not curious enough to bother looking from his seat by the very corner of the table closest to the counter. It was an easy endeavour, but Hibari's mood had little in the way of thinking through such simple notions.

"That's your hunger talking." He heard that clear assertion from her raspy voice and would have ignored it if not for the slightest thought in his mind echoing the fact that she was probably correct in that assessment, even if it was irrelevant. The cause of it paled in comparison to the solution, but she was sure to cover that as she continued: "The moment you're full and out of here, you'll be raising hell I'm glad I'm not part of."

He really did have no use biting her to death, but he did have other targets he was sure to be able to find; the solution was that simple. He had glanced her way to check if she was rejoining some of her younger co-workers, and finding that she was, he finally showed something similar to a smile. Not because she was crowding (seeing as she was only making use of the co-workers to begin with) or because she was so irritatingly slow when he happened to be in one of his worse moods, but from that pinpoint response. Indeed, he would bite others to death soon after he was out of the cafeteria. Mentioning that appealing prospect was precisely part of her plan, even if it seemed like a reflexive form of venting her cynical view on the abnormal middle school student that was Kyoya Hibari. With an end goal in sight, he was able to wait more patiently, but he never did admit her initial elderly advice had been correct all along, because Hibari did not like sparing words to things of the past.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

A Summer afternoon, still not quite allowing the sky to darken by hours past the classes in Namimori Middle School. "This isn't lunchtime," she immediately uttered the moment she saw him almost precisely in front of her when she was leaving through the door out of the kitchen. She had almost missed him, and had stepped back after flinching and catching sight of the blackness that consisted the general colour scheme of Hibari's clothing. "Up for dinner now?" She was frowning as if upset by being suddenly assailed with his presence; she was used to Hibari behind the counter.

Even so, there was no fear in her gaze, as always. "It's still early for that," Hibari simply responded, glancing briefly towards the window showing a faintly blue sky. "I'm here for other reasons."

"You already heard all about Nami-Middle's History as far as I know," she said, assuming that was her only use to Hibari outside of lunch hours. Truthfully, it was, so the rarity of such encounters was considerable to the point not even Hibari would think of the idea of seeing her for any business other than what he would usually come up to her for.

"That's not it, either," Hibari cleanly stated, since his thoughts did not drift away from the matter at hand. His posture was relaxed, but elegant, indicating he was far from impatient in speaking to the old woman, even if she would often speak at a leisurely pace. "I came here to ask something out of you."

"And what's that?" she asked, almost as if because that was the natural question to utter rather than any bout of genuine curiosity. It was practical and reasonable, so it was especially good in ensuring a quick transition to Hibari's topic of interest.

"It's the usual request," Hibari said. His gaze was almost as if phasing through the old lady to look into the kitchen, which had naturally been kept clean by the staff diligently considering Hibari was a resident visitor. The three other women had left early, and the woman would usually stay for longer to check on anything, particularly missing ingredients or stains that could have been glossed over. The former was especially necessary, since she had to report that to Hibari himself. He had a hand on the school's stocks, as expected, and there were heavy consequences to negligence in reports. Thankfully, the elderly lady happened to be meticulous in her observations of the cafeteria. "I just figured I'd have you prepared beforehand."

"Oh, being in the cafeteria on break?" She smiled wryly thinking of the familiar prospect, of being alone in what was decidedly her kitchen simply to cook for the Disciplinary Committee. It was something that was not quite expected out of other school's cafeterias, and it was simultaneously volunteer work as she would receive no extra payment, thus giving it the status of a request rather than anything else. "You really like making these old bones work." Hibari was unexpectedly hardworking when it came to his committee's matters, so it was not rare of him to stay by the vacation, even if only for a certain few days, all of which he would warn the woman of beforehand.

"You say that, but you'll do it anyway," Hibari said with a smirk, as if entirely certain and confident of his claim, daring her to prove him wrong in an already won battle. The woman did not even try, shrugging instead in a dull fashion.

"Not much to do at home, after all," she said, and he nodded in return, acknowledging her confirmation. Any other individual would have thought of the idea of free work as tiring and a hassle, but the woman always seemed to like opportunities to be at school, and a cooperative means to an end was nothing if not convenient to Hibari.

Even so, said means to an end was not directly affiliated to the Disciplinary Committee, and constituted her own individual. Knowing the weight behind the request that was not an order, Hibari asked now with a frown after remembering a crucial point: "What would you like in return for that?" Another familiar question to the woman's ears, but it was an obligation, as far as Hibari's pride was concerned. Even if she almost seemed like she was as much a part of the school as the walls, she held an undeniable will of her own, and it was her willingness to accept the favor that led to its execution in the first place.

"Can't say anything pops to mind," she said, frustratingly enough, blinking as if truthfully clueless. She seemed like the picture perfect ditzy grandmother for that one second, but her demeanour would otherwise never imply much of her considerable age, including her decision to actually stay by the cafeteria on vacation. "Put it on that debt tab you keep on me for some reason and take it easy."

She waved her hand dismissively, and Hibari's frown deepened under the expected response that he had no means of rectifying. "You do these things by choice," Hibari explained in a faint attempt to pressure the woman, "so I always end up owing you." Though, Hibari partly just felt like venting the matter on her. "It's honestly troublesome, so could you just pick something already?" Always worded in an interrogative fashion, but never telling of a real choice, Hibari's calm demand carried more nonchalance than true intimidation. Hibari himself was not especially reliant on direct intimidation as much as he was pure brute force, so it was to be assumed his icy glare would be enough to sway anyone.

However, Hibari never did expect the old woman to take the liberty of naming something she wished. "Why not just force some poor sap to do it?" Instead, she had that to offer in order to avoid the concept of debt entirely, but the previous debts would have remained either way. Furthermore, she likely knew that naming random favours would only lead to an irritated Hibari seeing as his pride was involved in keeping even and free of all others. To take his voluntary, direct action lightly would be to quickly incur his quiet anger.

She only showed apathy to said action she did not even demand, so Hibari was usually inclined to feel little more than slight frustration. After all, apathy had no restrictive properties whatsoever, and he was already familiarized with the woman's attitude. "Because I like making use of the school's cafeteria," Hibari answered, forgetting to add that the elderly woman's cooking skill was seemingly the staple of Namimori Middle School's food quality, as she was the first and reccurring cafeteria staff. Replacing her was viable, but contrary to the original spirit of the school's aesthetic, so it was a reprehensible option to Hibari.

She, on the other hand, furrowed her eyebrows as she mulled over the response. Hibari did not think to note it was the vague nature of his outward reasoning that would cause the pause, especially since he held no regard for the way he was interpreted. "Isn't the school yours?" she ultimately uttered, unapprehensive smile unwavering. "You could even force me."

"... You would die if I tried," Hibari lowly muttered, but the silence allowed the elderly woman to lightly pick up the general sentence, "so there's no point." It was the first thing that had occurred to his mind, looking over the creature in front of him. A frail, weak animal, but not one concerned with survival by that point, possibly from her age, but he knew there was something more to it. In the very same way the old woman wished for nothing out of Hibari, she had nothing she could be threatened with, conversely. If moved by force, her health would be at stake; if moved by the prospect of leaving Namimori, she would simply cease to exist by her own hands.

Desperation to stay in Namimori at the cost of something she would be against would imply she had something to fight for, after all. She planned to spend her last days in Namimori Middle School, but she kept her dignity, as if that were the only boundary none could overstep, and a lack of self-attachment, in turn. That very same woman remarked, thinking Hibari was only talking in physical terms: "Not very good at holding back, are you?" Then, her expression softened, her smile gentle, showing lacking concern. "Well, you'll find ways of paying me back eventually. You usually do."

It was an obvious statement to Hibari, warranting no pertinent response. As such, he huffed, similarly knowing there was no way of solving his main problem currently, and said, "I'll be going now." He turned around and walked away quickly, left to his own business, and willed himself to ignore the nagging feeling of the restraint of unrepaid debts. Still, with her, it was only routine.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"What...?" the strained, weak voice of the sickly old lady in a mask uttered faintly, muffled, from a certain Monday she had been the victim to a common cold. It was something even he would go to the hospital for, but the elderly woman who proceeded to cough was seemingly intent on never resting from school. She would usually be helped in greater amounts by the rest of the staff, and she would give them directions. It would have been disappointing to Hibari, if not for the fact that her demeanour would change under those circumstances as well. Though, he did wonder how she had not died yet.

Regardless, Hibari smirked in face of her rare glare, caused only by her bad mood. "That's not the usual question," he remarked; another taunt. It did not rile her up exactly as desired, and the tension in her posture instead relaxed, and her eyebrows returned to a more normal position rather than the previous creased, pent-up movement. Her breathing was somewhat heavy, but she had taken the appropriate precautions in making sure the cold would not spread, gloved, suited with an apron and her mouth and nose covered. Had she a fever, she probably would not be able to stand, he noted, considering her physical condition.

She sighed, as if tired for once. "Just you wait over there like you usually do," she muttered dryly as a weak, trembling arm guided her finger to point over the counter to the table by the window, where Hibari's usual seat was located. Hibari sent a brief glance to that area, but refrained from moving just yet.

"... You actually appeared," he said, ignoring her words in favor of his own spontaneous statement. Hibari was only not impressed because he knew her well enough already, but he did always show some curiosity in regards to her beahviour.

Meanwhile, the woman retracted her arm slowly, and retorted, "Were you expecting me of all people to stay home? I've got better things to do than being sick."

Hibari hummed pensively, filling the silence that his musing on the matter would have taken up. Whether it was unintentional or not was a mystery of its own, but there was no precise telling what ideas could be coursing through his mind with that smirk and aloof gaze, and the old woman crossed her arms as she awaited his input. "You really don't change, do you?" was the comment he contented himself with, and even the tone in his voice was uncanny in its vague nature.

It was a mystery not even the healthy old woman would care to know or notice, and her ill self was no different. "Comes with the age," she said, plainly and bluntly, "I'd be kicking the bucket by the time you had my stubborness changed."

"Do you think that'll be soon?" he asked, his question just as honest as the old lady's perceivable demeanour. That straightforward, unempathetic curiosity was not unheard of when it came to Hibari, but it was apparently enough to have the woman pause.

She seemingly considered the topic carefully, and her eyebrows furrowed further. "Well, Hibari," she drawled out, "What do you think?"

"Me?" he uttered not out of doubt or confusion, but sheer interest. She never would have avoided the topic, seeing as she had no consideration for herself to begin with; it begged the question of why she decided to shoot the question back to Hibari. He played along, expecting interesting results: "I don't think anything. If you die, that's all it'll be."

"And then I'm the one who doesn't change," she countered, expecting the uncaring viewpoint, only to cough in succession to the quick statement. "I can't even imagine you as an old man..." She took a deep breath, while Hibari did not even let himself ponder on the woman's words further.

"I didn't come here to chat," he instead said, attempting to cut the conversation off. Now that he thought about it, he did happen to be hungry.

"Sure you didn't." Hibari saw her roll her eyes before turning away from the counter. As he walked for his seat quietly, he heard: "You just like eating after trying to taunt a sick old woman." The set of words had him stop in his tracks, and his thoughts did drift to the elderly woman then. He would not exactly speak expecting something specific, like a fight, but the way she phrased his actions seemed oddly fitting.

"... So you do notice," he muttered and resumed his trek to that nearby table with graceful steps.

She did not answer him, and he was content with the following silence.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"The usual?" The year and day were unknown, but Hibari was certain he was in a good mood that day. The cafeteria was usually a spot that would ease his spirits (if he was alone) because of its intrinsic connection to the facilities of a school, particularly his, but even beyond that notion was something that could cause him to ignore his hunger to some extent.

"I saw an old photo album just this morning," Hibari said in a calm, but quick fashion, almost as if he had failed to hear the woman's question. He was already smirking victoriously, and the old woman was blinking in light of the information given. "It had pictures of Nami-Middle on its inauguration."

"I thought you couldn't find those," she admitted with some awe and softly pressed her rugged hand to her mouth. She appeared to still be processing Hibari's accomplishment, almost forgetting the main purpose of Hibari's presence.

A rare sight, but Hibari was not particularly attentive to such things at the time. "It was only a matter of time before I did," he responded, and his eyes narrowed as if marking the very moment he thought of something of considerable importance. "Do you want a copy?" From anyone else, the offer could be seen as a show of politeness, but the elderly lady was not so ignorant as to associate Hibari with pleasantries.

Conversely, his ulterior motives were always exceedingly clear when it came to offers, and she smiled in less of a cynical fashion than usual before huffing. "I wasn't expecting that, but sure," she said, "I wouldn't mind remembering those times a little better." Hibari closed his eyes as if in a quiet acknowledgement of her answer, and he remembered thinking of the circumstances then; of the fact that the discovery of that piece of History was entirely due to the woman's information. In the end, there was still more debt piling up than that single offer could cover.

"I do owe you, after all," Hibari said, and left a small dossier on top of the counter. He headed for the same seat, unwilling to converse further. He would observe past the counter from afar, but his mind was instead focused on what he had gathered about Namimori Middle School, his prideful fortress, because Hibari did not ever feel like dwelling on issues he could not yet solve.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

That day was not a school day, or so he remembered. It was the middle of a Winter break, and Hibari had headed for the cafeteria expecting the familiar presence of that old woman. Naturally, she was there, and he approached her wordlessly, awaiting her own routine question even as he was by the counter. "The usual?" Since she only had to appear at the designated lunch hour, she would often by idling by whenever he arrived, as she would often be far earlier than necessary. Even so, the smile she would give him when she faced him behind that counter would be brighter than in other days, almost as if it were all that much more exciting to be at the school on break.

"... You really only live for the school, don't you?" Hibari was only curious in reaction to that enthusiasm, though it at least did not worsen his mood in any manner. He had been smiling since before he had stepped foot into the cafeteria, but his eyes had only narrowed now, and he spotted the old woman's stance stiffen ever so slightly.

"For the school, huh? That's how you think it is?" Her eyebrows rose in that slight show of doubt, as if urging him to better think on the matter; a challenge, like many others. He locked eyes with the woman, black against greyed blue, and none were particularly fazed by the implied provocation.

In fact, it only urged Hibari to speak further, to confront her: "You're like an animal waiting to die," he stated as he leaned closer to the counter, the sleeves of his uniform's jacket grazing the glass and wall, "Though, it's not normal to pick a school as the last spot. Those waiting to die usually pick somewhere they can be alone."

That clearly-expressed viewpoint was met with a shrug, and the elderly woman acted as though completely guarded from any danger behind the counter, staring up at Hibari, as even he managed to be taller than she was. However, even if that counter were not creating the perfect distance, he was sure she would be just as unfazed. After all, she was unafraid of death. "Well, no point in keeping up living if I'm alone," she said, "I live for the people that come and go from the school." And not the building itself, despite its meaning and splendor? What of the woman's dedication to the school? Were her admiration for those who created the school to begin with, it would have been more logical.

Her purpose, conversely, supposedly lay on the students, transient and usually weak. Now, Hibari was the one to display doubt, and his eyebrows arched faintly before remarking, "That's definitely something I can't understand. I live for myself only, and do as I please."

"And I'm doing as I please," she retorted quicker than usual, as if expecting the answer, "Nothing strange about that." It continued to birth further thought in Hibari's mind, which, for once, actually pondered on the old woman's lifestyle in a concrete fashion. He would sometimes think on her actions, her viewpoints, her perceivable ideals, anything he could act against and reap results, whatever they happened to be. Now, though, he was thinking on what she would do that had no involvement with him or his interests: for example, of when she would speak to others, something entirely irrelevant to his own pursuits.

Verifying only conversations with Kusakabe and the co-workers, the latter only for professional purposes and the former in supposed privacy, Hibari voiced after seconds of silence, "You say you live for others, but you don't mingle." If not for the rowdy environment inherent of a cafeteria, she would not have crowded at all, and her job would have hardly allowed her to converse with others the same way she would, and briefly, with Hibari. It was only natural, considering she was awaiting her own death, but it had little alignment with her own statement. What would someone willing to die live for to begin with?

"Well, you have people like Kusakabe, don't you?" was the woman's only answer phrased as a rhetorical question, signifying how seemingly simple the matter happened to be. Truthfully, it was simple, especially when Hibari's vision of Kusakabe as an expendable tool and loyal watchdog was nothing if not clear. While Hibari's strength was unquestionable, and being alone was feasible to him, it was convenient to make use of others, and they did offer of their own volition. Kusakabe, for one, was someone Hibari was so familiarized with that ordering him around was second nature.

"... I see," Hibari ultimately muttered, associating the woman's view of people with his of those who were convenient. If people served her purposes only, and she wished for nothing herself, were the transient students of the school there for her amusement? The cafeteria lady was always a strangely passive, but sly existence; she was more than she let on, even if she was not physically strong. "You're not just a suicidal herbivore, are you?" Instead, Hibari was liable to see her as someone who awaited death and took advantage of life. While it was not a label that warranted his respect, it did make him wonder, and that was enough, as far as he was concerned. It was still an improvement from those he would want to bite to death just by catching sight of them.

"Who knows? I don't go keeping track of people's philosophy shenanigans," she responded while waving her hand dismissively, as if to shoo away an insect. Her dry demeanour suffered no changes, and it showed only the fair balance of respect and disrespect expected out of someone even more apathetic to life and death than Hibari was, a feat in and of itself. "I just cook." It was a practical affirmation, a claim Hibari could not and did not want to counter.

Hibari huffed, and took a step back from the counter. "I'm waiting," he warned before turning around to head for his seat, noting the woman's penchant for knowing what to say to him. If anything, the elderly would have to be intelligent to keep on surviving with bodies so deteriorated from age.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

It was a day like any other, as far as Hibari was concerned. Peaceful as it should be, save for the strange high-pitched noises that would occasionally come from the classrooms. Hibari was naturally neutral to the matter if it did not interfere with his itinerary, and the quiet hallways and cafeteria did not warrant any issue. When he did arrive by the counter and was noticed by the elderly cafeteria lady, however, she did not immediately walk his way.

She headed to the side, ommitted by the walls past the counter and returned with a bag on her hands. "Well, well, Hibari _-kun,_ " she drawled as she placed it over the counter. She smiled wryly, her teasing cynical but genuine in its lack of malice: "Kusakabe and the rest of the crew haven't been doing their jobs, that's for sure."

Hibari blinked, and took a few seconds simply staring at the plastic bag. "What's that?" he ended up asking, as nothing pertinent occurred to him when seeing it. Though, the jab at the Disciplinary Committee's performance had caught his attention fully. What exactly would pass under their radar?

"Your fanclub gave it to me," she explained and pointed to Hibari, "to give it to you, because we apparently get along." She chuckled, amused by the mere thought. Hibari had promptly ignored that last remark over the more important matter of the bag, slipped in supposedly through the woman, interfering with his time in the cafeteria; he thought he had already crushed his fanclub. He was unaware of the fact that the old woman was simply referring to them that way as a jest, and grimaced. "They're catching on to your schedule."

"Throw that away," he cleanly ordered, his cold gaze locked onto the woman's to further assert his point. Inwardly, he was already thinking of acting on a second fanclub extermination, but was unsure, for once, as to whether the notion would amuse or irritate him... Which, in turn, irritated him. It was at least certain they would be bitten to death, but he had to focus his efforts in **—**

"It's perfectly edible chocolate," the old woman stated as a protest, and Hibari finally remembered Valentine's Day existed that very moment.

"... Is that so?" Hibari's eyes narrowed dangerously, locking onto that bag almost like a target to erase. At the very least, it was a small bag; the amount was tolerable enough. Besides, even if they, frustratingly enough, did not even have the courage to face him directly (and individually), the day did happen to be appropriate... Although Hibari did wish it did not exist. "I'll take just the chocolate, then."

The woman nodded in approval, probably uncaring of the details behind Hibari's thought process, and gestured to the bag. "Good choice," she remarked with a smile, only for her eyebrows to crease and her hand to stop with her index finger risen as she continued to utter: "After all, food isn't something you should waste, now, is it?"

"Is that supposed to be a lecture?" Hibari calmly retorted, unfazed by her words entirely, especially when other things were on his mind. One of them being the fact that the crowd of girls had managed to secure a free passage to send him things, even if only for a year. His irritation only burned stronger the more he thought about it, but the old woman seemed almost unaware of that.

It was only natural, since she had never been directly faced with Hibari and his Valentine's Day troubles. "It's more than you ever get when you don't show up for class," she countered, but that fell on deaf ears in comparison to the definite annoyance that would haunt him until that accursed day, and he was not thinking of Valentine's Day. "Anyway, the usual?"

Hibari grabbed at that bag, and scowled. "The usual. Also, don't ever accept anything from them." He said no more and stomped for his seat, his mind already flashforwarding to White Day, the bane of Kusakabe's existence. Not only would he get bitten to death in the girls' stead, but he would also be charged with giving back gifts for Hibari, who could not possibly stand being around the origin of his anger without biting it to death. Regardless, he would at least pay them back diligently before absolutely blocking any other means for gifts to surge in the school grounds ever again.

For the years to come, he never did receive gifts again. At least, not until a certain five year old child's attempt.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

A new year had arrived, but it brought no true changes to Hibari's routine. However, that very static routine would supposedly constitute the bulk of peace in Namimori Middle School, and Hibari had pride in being the reason for its absolute safety. The cafeteria, too, remained the same, and she would welcome him as always. "The usual?"

"You always ask that, don't you?" It was almost as if the old woman herself felt no refreshing need for variation, but that was already a reason for curiosity. Hibari was smiling, content with normalcy and especially content with affording to ask that question to the woman if only to see if she would be troubled searching for meaning that could or could not be there all along. Either way, it was simply another sort of taunt, and more of the same song and dance.

"And you're still here," she retorted, and left it at that for a change. It was a different pattern, a challenge clashing with the other challenge. Her expression had shown little for Hibari to base his thoughts off of, as her wry smile was almost a default expression, and her eyes glinted with faint determination that he could not place and did not entirely care for placing.

As such, Hibari hummed pensively, only half-invested in the matter. "I don't know what you're talking about," he plainly uttered as if to invite an explanation, but he truthfully only voiced that aloud because it occurred to mind.

"Have you ever thought about graduating?" the old lady asked with a similarly straightforward stance, and Hibari's eyes narrowed in sudden understanding. If it was about the school, there did happen to be some interest in the topic, after all.

"Oh, that? That should be obvious." His uniform remained in place, and he was positioned in front of the counter of the cafeteria, still with the intent of making use of school facilities. The clarity of the answer was comparable to the authority of the Disciplinary Committee, even in the way it was bound never to change.

The old woman seemed to pick up on that in seconds, and grimaced, surprisingly enough. "Obvious, huh? Never mind, then," she said, briefly casting her gaze downwards, displaying slight disappointment; perhaps even weariness. "Pretend I never asked."

It was a new kind of reaction, and centered on a topic seemingly pertaining the school. Hibari remarked, smirking, "Now you got me curious. Could you explain yourself?" Were he in a worse mood, it would have been a threat, and worded more assertively, but Hibari was not quite counting on biting the elderly woman to death considering her physical stature. She had faced Hibari again, and recovered the smile.

Though, regardless, she had taken a few seconds to respond, "Well, you do have this thing for wanting to control the school." Then, she shrugged, almost as if resigned. "Maybe that's what you're supposed to do for now. Until you do graduate."

"And what makes you think I'll graduate?" The retort was immediate, implying a certainty not even Hibari had bothered to truly think over: it was simply the set of words that slipped out, and it illustrated the point neatly enough. Not only that, but it warranted an answer from the woman, who was seemingly bound to have an interesting perspective.

"Being a student in Nami-Middle's enough," she said, the vagueness in the statement promptly matching expectations, even if not entirely comprehensible to Hibari. The old woman had crossed her arms, and Hibari was able to spot that. Naturally, he was not surprised to hear her speak up: "Now, do you want food or did you come here for chit-chat?"

The practical purpose outweighed the casual pastime, and in assessing his priorities, Hibari concluded he was not truly that interested in her business. "You're hiding something," Hibari said, "but I guess I'll leave it at that, for now." He turned around to step for his seat, but spared the old woman a glance, seeing her frown momentarily. Whatever it was that she was thinking, it did not truly matter to Hibari, because his true priority was himself only.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Soon enough was a time period in the cafeteria days in which Hibari could somewhat understand that the cafeteria lady would not have all that much longer to live. Hibari entered the cafeteria at his normal pace, approached the counter at his own pace, but the old woman was not the same after noticing his presence. The staff was staring her way in a particularly tense manner, and one of them even whispered about taking her place in talking to Hibari; a prospect that was only brought up in especially bad days for the woman. He was soon sure of why that was when he noticed her walk even more slowly than what he would expect out of her, and finding that her breathing was a little ragged, but it was not out of a cold since she was wearing no mask that day. "The usual...?"

"... You're slow." Strained voice notwithstanding, Hibari's first thought on the matter pertained her movement, especially because that had considerable weight on the time she would take with his food. Unlike the ordinary cafeteria with any other student, Hibari's order was not the same as the designated menu, and required special attention, cementing the reason Hibari would appear all that much earlier than the student body.

"That's not anything you didn't know already," she retorted, unable to even let out that usual cynical smile. She instead frowned vacantly, and her eyes were unfocused. It was rare for someone like her to be distracted, but it was clear her mind was elsewhere, only partially engaged in the conversation. Hibari was not particularly offended, and he was assuming the motive was involuntary.

"You're slower than usual," he uttered to dispel all doubt, and watched that blank frown deepen with more genuine displeasure. He was sure to have hit the mark with the comment, but the small victory was not quite as important as the old woman's answer, depending on its implications.

"Just having a bad day," she said, succintly so, "Nothing you'd actually care about." And it truthfully was something Hibari would normally apathetic towards, and that did not change. He felt nothing in particular for her strained self, but his curiosity was evident; it was also adjacent to other priorities.

In light of another mound of seconds spent staring at the old woman, whose speed was such she did not have the time to react and say her piece about the silence, Hibari pensively hummed in slight interest, but not enough to be completely resolute. "Are you in pain?" he asked as though it were any innocent question, a mere happenstance of nature.

The confirmation came in further with the old woman's grimace before she countered, "If you can tell, you don't need to ask."

"And you still come to work." He would have inquired on her eagerness to die as a taunt, but the words had faded from his mind, leaving only the enigmatic meaning of the first statement. There was no surprise in the elderly lady's flawless attendance (beyond the fact that she had not yet the necessity to be hospitalized), but the mysterious nature of the illness he did not truly care to know was perhaps telling of the little days she had left to live, and that was relevant to Hibari, even if only slightly.

For the first time in the conversation, the old woman was eyeing Hibari resolutely, even if that grimace was not able to disappear alongside her previously uncharacteristic demeanour. "It's the only thing I have," she stated, and closed her eyes briefly, as if rationalizing something that she did not speak out to Hibari.

Hibari would have followed that statement if just for his own goals, but in reminding himself of his hunger, he found it trivial by comparison. "Well, it's your life," he loosely replied and left for his seat, neutral to the prospect of something she could be hiding. Instead, he wondered how long she would have to live, and if she would not die before he could at least get his lunch.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"It's not lunchtime," she warned, and that time, the sky was dyed an orange hue, fitting the afternoon. The cafeteria lady had already left the kitchen by the time Hibari had entered the cafeteria, and her steps were as clumsy as they continued regularly being since the first time he noted her weakening state. Her hands visibly trembled, but her gaze was not unfocused now.

"I know," he retorted as he stopped by a row of tables, a moderate distance away from the old woman who was eyeing him wearily. Then, her eyebrows furrowed, and she grimaced.

"You didn't come all the way here just to go on some more about me dying, did you?"

"... Is that what you think I usually tell you about?" Hibari retorted with slight amusement, smirking even in face of the pending issue of the woman's health. She was still trying to walk closer to the door, slowly, but she was crossing the other side of the row of tables and, as such, kept a distance from Hibari.

"It's what would have you giddy seeing me react to, for one," she responded, but her gaze was not in Hibari primarily. She had instead glanced at him once, and mustered a smile much more dully than she normally would. "Believe it or not, I know you well."

"Do you, now?" It was not something he imagined from an inherently distant individual, but he simultaneously did not mind playing along for the sake of argument, staring at her expectantly even as she neared the door.

She turned around when she was by the midway point in the path to the door, and directed half-lidded eyes to Hibari. "I know enough," she asserted, "that I don't need any prying into your business."

"I'm not here to rile you up," Hibari said, only as an afterthought.

"If you wanna pick on somebody, you should make it people your age," she warned with a slight stern edge, but not with the same kind of energy as before. It was a change Hibari was adapting to as it went, but it only solidified his purpose in that afternoon.

"I already do," Hibari responded simply enough, but seeing the old woman cross her arms was proof enough that she was unconvinced by the blunt answer.

" _Only_ people your age," she stressed, albeit without raising her voice. She would usually not do so at all, but her distance from Hibari and strained tone made her words faint to the ears. Calmer than before, maybe even solemn through her softened expression, she then continued: "See, Hibari, you shouldn't be bothering with people who'll die soon. You'll regret it."

A direct affront to his current self, and he now at least knew that the old woman was just as aware of her nearing impending death as he was. Regardless, he found something fundamentally wrong with the phrasing, uttering, "And what makes you think I'm 'bothering' with you?" It was almost as if he would talk to the dead as a pastime, as if he had no other pertinent reason to appear beyond school hours to speak to the old lady. Proudly solitary as he was, Hibari found the prospect preposterous to begin with, but any following answer could catch his interest, so his gaze was more expectant than anything, inviting a retort.

The weakened woman, however, did not even afford for that. She huffed, dismissing the taunt before saying, "Well, whatever it is, you should have better things to do."

An irrelevant argument; how disappointing. Hibari faintly shrugged, and focused instead of better notions, uttering back, "I do whatever I want." Though, through that statement, the old woman had come to raise her eyebrows in pure skepticism instead.

With a cynical smile, she retorted the same way one would say an objective fact, even if worded as a question, "Humans can't fly now, can they?"

"I don't let things like that stop me."

The woman closed her eyes before his own blunt statement, pondering lightly on the perspective it belied. Common sense and such viewpoints were essentially useless to Hibari if his desires willed him to pursue whatever he pleased, and the old woman was likely conciliating that response with his usual demeanour, knowing it to be true. Regardless, her eyes opened softly and slowly with the smallest tinge of wry amusement, maybe resignation. "You might die earlier than me, then," she said, but not even as a warning or advice, "living on the edge like that."

"I won't die," Hibari calmly stated, "After all, I'm not weak." A few seconds of silence permeated the cafeteria with the weary old woman staring straight into Hibari's eyes, which he was similarly using to lock on to the woman's, marking the assertive nature of his position. Hibari's distance from her was the same, and he would keep it that way at his leisure, seeing no need to note more from her current physical condition than he already could. However, he was starting to assume the pauses she was taking were more for health-related reasons than due to deep thought.

"I'm just waiting for the time you become town president," she said, slowly, tentatively with a wider smile, "even take over the world." Her eyes twinkled under the faint afternoon light almost as if projecting a miniscule image of the very scenario, which Hibari could not and did not care to see. It was apparently an amusing enough mental image to warrant a chuckle out of the woman, and she elaborated on the reason despite Hibari having never asked: "People like you either soar high and melt under the sun, or crash and burn."

A misunderstanding, then. A hypothesis the elderly woman did not believe in, which was the precise reason she could laugh at all. Hibari, for one, was unfazed enough to casually answer along the flawed hypothesis, "I don't plan on either of those." Instead, he did think over the words that would have constituted as astute advice to perhaps someone else, glancing towards the window displaying the darkening sky. "The sun is too bright for me, anyway." Such was his conclusion, because he wanted only the peace Namimori would provide.

The woman did not seem especially impressed with the answer, and was beginning to tap her foot impatiently. "Well, you do you, I suppose. How about you tell me that business of yours, now?"

Cutting to the chase was nothing if not beneficial to Hibari, so he immediately asked, "Do you have something you want done now?"

"Huh?" was the woman's immediate reaction, and a rare one considering she would usually brush aside any confusing part of Hibari's demeanour out of apathy. It was a probable sign of the old woman's current condition, but not something he needed to dwell on in face of much more important matters.

"You like referencing your death a lot, so I'm sure you must have thought of things you wanted to do before dying," Hibari said as the first thing that occurred to his mind, and he frowned already expecting the troublesome side of the cafeteria lady. "I want to know them, because I still owe you." Regardless, as it stood, it was particularly relevant now to reach some sort of agreement with the woman on her debts, since he would get no chance after her death. Although her death would simultaneously mark the erasure of the debts by default, Hibari's concern was with the present, and the present had the woman still standing before him and still with her unparalleled ability to have nothing she wanted to be paid back with.

"Really?" She had truthfully forgotten, the tiredness overwhelming, and she took a moment to ponder on her own. Hibari's eyes narrowed in trying to understand the meaning behind that stance, but it was soon made painfully clear when she spoke up with a grimace: "The problem here is that I don't have things like last wishes. As long as you don't get me fired, I don't have regrets. Too much trouble thinking about them."

"... You really don't change," he ultimately remarked, also a set of words he had put little thought into uttering. What they represented exactly, not even Hibari was sure, but there was little interest in knowing, as well.

"You also don't change and your hair isn't grey yet," the old woman retorted quickly for once, only to sigh. Hibari assumed she would not be leaving the spur-of-the-moment answer at that if she did not want to start truly displeasing him, and the slight wait after that sigh did prove him right, at least. "Anyway, if there's anything you're doing to make us even, it's getting me a plumber to fix that dish washer."

Finally, a feasible, practical suggestion, even if small in his view. "Is that all?" he asked, if only to make sure. It would not be his responsibility if she did protest against his actions after he had executed them, but he would rather a smooth process when the individual in question was not worth biting to death.

"It's all I need, so consider the whole debt paid then."

Admittedly enough, he had not expected the one action to account for the multiple instances of debt, but the convenience of the notion warranted a smirk. "Really, now? There's still leeway for more." He seemingly dangled the much more advantageous hypothesis to the old woman's figurative sight, almost as if to dare her to change her mind knowing it would not be. He was met with the usual wry smile, and immediately confirmed the assumption without the need for words.

"Do more yourself if you want to do more," she countered dismissively, but her body language was lacking, "I told you everything already." She appeared ready to leave, stepping further back into the door's direction, and Hibari huffed in reaction to the response. Then, he began to walk the same way, his gaze on the old lady unafraid of death whose days were undoubtedly counted as if to watch for any other affirmation, or for any movement that could catch his interest.

There was none, and the elderly woman allowed him to tread past her. It was at that moment he closed his eyes, and neared his hands to the door before cleanly speaking: "Expect it done in a week."

However, not even a week was the old woman able to last.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

It was only natural, as such, that Hibari would be in a bad mood that Monday he heard from Kusakabe (who had conversely heard from the principal) that the cafeteria lady had been hospitalized since Saturday.

"What are you doing in a place like this?" Hibari asked, almost as if ignorant, when he entered that white room of the hospital he also happened to have authority over. Even so, he had always known why she was there, and he had heard Kusakabe's report on the matter, as well. The clock struck midday, lunchtime, but there was nothing in his stomach to speak of, which only did increase his inner irritation. His piercingly icy glare was completely locked onto the furthermost hospital bed of the room, and he glanced at none of the surroundings as he approached the old woman.

Near the doorway was Kusakabe on standby, supposedly intent on visiting the old woman, himself; details Hibari cared little for, but the old woman had looked past Hibari to briefly note that. She would blink little in her sorry state, and her head tilted slightly to the side to take sight of Hibari. "What does it look like?" she retorted, her voice weak, unworthy of the defiant tone from the strain on it alone. "I'm lying down here because I can't move."

"I thought you said you'd die before being separated from the school," Hibari stated, if only because those hollow eyes of hers signified death as well as her prospective corpse could, and he knew better than to expect a full recovery. Or his cafeteria lunch, for that matter.

"That was the plan, but I guess I'm not dying in my sleep after all," she acknowledged without even the strength to shrug in a smooth fashion, but she did try. The attempt was meaningless, even displeasing, but Hibari's mind was already on a different train of thought.

"You still have time," he uttered as a fact. Her body had yet to stop moving, after all. Were she dead, he would not have been in the hospital to begin with, holding business of his own. She was dead to the school, but not dead officially; not exactly his preferred way of seeing her, all things considered. Was it so hard not to trouble him by simply starting to die a few days later?

"It's not as comfortable when it's a hospital bed." The old woman frowned, and her gaze searched through the surroundings as if seeking for something to muse about, but the building was empty of natural meaning and entertainment; vacant as her fading life.

Hibari's eyes narrowed in face of the opportunity laced into the words, even if it happened to be unintentional. "Do you want to move away from here?" he asked, already sorting out the better-equiped locations in his mind he could transfer her to, if only she accepted.

"You don't owe me anything anymore, remember?" And even in death, now away from the school, she would not simply make it easy for him. The old woman probably did not take her life yet simply on the slim chance she could recover and begin working again, but it was a needless sense of hope to have.

... No, not hope. Thinking back on that woman, it was more plausible to assume she had no expectations, and was awaiting her death patiently knowing it would come without any effort from her part. A few seconds passed with vacant, transient thoughts of that nature in Hibari's mind, in the middle of a waiting time for perhaps a more convenient answer to his offer, but he found no such thing. As such, he took the liberty of clarifying his reasoning: "I still didn't get that dish washer fixed, and you won't get to use it."

In other words, he had not paid her back at all, frustratingly enough. The old woman conversely shook her head slowly as if in playful disapproval. "Boys your age shouldn't be so fussy," she said, almost as if lazily; a far cry from her usual diligence.

"You're the one who's needlessly stubborn," he quickly retorted, his voice never more than the usual soft tone but there were signs of breathy interference, associated mostly with the slight anger and hunger he felt alongside the circumstances. None of it was planned; it was a simple whim, an expression of his mood. "Are you that intent on keeping an upper hand on me until the moment you die?"

The lack of a visible reaction in her features added to the displeasure of the situation, and the old woman's reaction time was fittingly slow. "I just don't have any ambition," she uttered, and paused for another moment, a moment of silence Hibari could wait for knowing it was just the byproduct of her weakened self. The justification sounded like nothing more than an excuse, but it also happened to be truth for someone like her, who longed only to stay at the school. Though, it still did not fix anything, so it hardly lingered in Hibari's mind. "Well, if you want to get the debt paid now, how about you listen to me? A day without work gets you thinking..." Another pause, but the response at least seemed promising. "And I just about found this last wish thing you mentioned the other day."

"So, that thing is to have me listen to you? Why?" For the first time in the conversation, Hibari showed himself curious, and his question was not entirely a very indirect challenge. It was more than rare for the elderly woman to prioritize speaking over any other worthwhile action, and she would usually never assert herself over others. Whatever changes her condition had brought her, they had even forced her of all people to talk as a wish.

"There's just something I think you might as well take to your grave," she responded in an orderly, calm fashion, "and you know I don't sugarcoat anything. Not even with you." It was almost as if planned from the beginning, thought through the days she had been still in her bed, outside of her home or the school. The novelty of the almost elegantly uttered words of the cafeteria lady did draw his attention futher, and erasing his debt through listening, even if it was not something he liked doing was still a convenient option in favour of any other action that would take much longer.

"... Go on, then," Hibari muttered, and he glanced towards the window showing the morning sky. Beside the old woman was nothing of importance; no signs of other visits before his own. She had always been a lonesome figure, and it seemed that not even now, others would come to her. He could afford noting her solitary self with neutrality in the time the old woman had spent in silence, and the fewest seconds in clearing her throat in preparation for the exertion of her voice.

"See, Hibari," she started, her voice unusually gentle, "I think you're too far gone at this point." Hibari immediately looked back at the old woman with a frown, his cold gaze fixated on her as a reflexive warning sign that he would not quite go through with (yet, if he ever felt like it) out of his debt and curiosity. "Anything anybody tells you, you'll just follow your own path. Still, I have a feeling the reason you're so turned away by people is because they don't treat you right. They're either below you, or above you; there's no in-between. Maybe if you found that in-between early on, you might've turned out a good kid after all."

Hibari's eyes narrowed, portraying emotion he did not bother understanding, but he assumed it was confusion and anger. "What are you trying to say?" he asked after mentally sifting through what he would decode as piles of verbal nonsense that hardly compared to more interesting activities such as biting others to death, but there seemed to be a meaning behind that old woman's words. Whatever it was, Hibari had nothing better to do than to try to understand it in the middle of the commitment he had involved himself with, though he expected the aged lady to have some wisdom to her, like she tended to for the sake of better navigating her hollow life.

"I'm saying you're a delinquent so bad there's no way you'll turn back," she asserted, and part of Hibari was assailed by an instinctive urge to take out his weapons. The other, however, was able to stop the action before it occurred on the simple basis that Hibari had no interest in the dead. "But on the other hand, you've still got a whole life ahead of you, and lots more people to meet. One day, you'll be surrounded by those in-betweens wherever you go, and you'll have a much more fun life than you think you're having. Just then, you might start being less of a hopeless case and graduate from the school." Such words were conveyed with a smile akin to the usual wry and dry demeanour of the woman, who never before had spoken at such length and in such a manner. It appeared she had all that much suppressed when it came to her own opinions of Hibari, who grimaced.

"... Did you just want to freely insult me?" Even his question sounded faintly dull with the smallest hint of an accusation, processing the fact that he was, for the first time in his life, called a hopeless case for reasons he did not even truly care to understand, regardless of whether that was the point of her words or not. Whatever the concept of 'in-betweens', equals happened to do to contribute to Hibari's life was entirely a foreign notion that involved more people than himself as the center of the circumstances, and there was more than a logical stretch or two in the mere suggestion that Hibari was the one who had yet to experience fun to its fullest. It was not his fault most would not even come close to his caliber, and it was certainly not his fault herbivores existed to annoy him.

The former cafeteria lady chuckled in a strained manner in light of Hibari's stone-cold expression, unlike how any other person would react seeing him potentially annoyed. "Why else do you think I'm using up your debt on this? Anything else, and you would've had me in the afterlife by now. I don't sugarcoat, but I'm no idiot." So she said, but she would probably not have stated anything different even if he was not in her debt. The moment she was sure she would not return to the school, she would have no reason to preserve her life. "And, well, we never did pry into each other's business, did we? You ordered food, and I'd make it," she said as her expression softened, and her gaze reflected something beyond the current surroundings. If her life happened to be flashing before her eyes, Hibari wondered if it still counted as paying her back if she died midway. "Having someone like you challenge me would bring me back to those times I simply dedicated myself to cooking, so it was in both our interests, really. There's no room for admitting to anything there."

That last sentence was a mere fact, and the rest seemed to be irrelevant under the straightforward truth of the distance between Hibari and the cafeteria lady. She served his ends, and remained passive to Hibari and his endeavours. 'Getting along' or not was a moot notion before the truth of the matter, which tied itself to the lack of true concern for both parties. At least, as far as he knew, since the old lady had now deemed it worth her time to offer him advice. "Why are you telling me this?"

That question had apparently been accounted for in the woman's plans, as she was quick to answer, "Because a school isn't meant to keep youths like you in; it's meant to make sure they get out of it." For once, she looked to the side, towards the sky, almost as if to see what she would soon be joining were she to fall asleep one last time. "And that's why I decided to stay working in the school for as long as I lived."

"... I don't understand." It was the most he was able to coherently put into words in the spur of the moment, because he had no particular emotional response to the matter. Not even anger; simple confusion derived from statements he found incoherent. As always, he had no grasp on the old woman's own ideals, but he would not have cared before, had he no choice but to listen to her. His mood soured in light of the confusion, and he was already scowling.

"Don't reduce your life to this, Hibari," the old woman urged, her gaze still away from the prefect because she knew he would be there. And he was there. _Listening,_ even though he had better things to do with his life (like eating lunch, biting something to death; anything at all). "If school was ever for something, it's to broaden your horizons." An arbitrary concept that did not correlate with his own ideals, and his own ideals were the school's by extension. It was a flaw that did not exist, evidently. "Let yourself be challenged for once, and you'll come and go just like all others." Since when did he ever need, want or care to be as any others? Was it an advantage to leave his school when it represented all he needed already? To begin with, she knew nothing of his life outside the cafeteria, did she? If so, there was no meaning to her arguments at all, Hibari had noted at the time; and yet, he supposedly had to _listen._ "Now, I don't wish for miracles, but I did want to see you graduate one day. Not out of any debt, but because you're on your way to live a life that suits you. The sun is too bright, but leave the ground eventually, will you?" Hibari's eyes captured every second of movement in the woman as she turned around to finally face him, and her gentle expression faltered upon seeing the exceedingly noticeable irritation in his gaze. She had not averted her eyes, but she did frown, almost as if disappointed, of all things. "Maybe it's still too early for you to understand," she said, "but if you do listen, and experience more things, you'll get it eventua **—** "

"I'm leaving." Enough was enough. Listening was as simple as grasping the other party's conclusion to their words, rather than focusing on every word itself. At least, that definition served his purposes well enough to consider the debt paid, and that was all that mattered, in the end.

He was going to turn around when she said, quickly perhaps out of obligation under the circumstances, "Not listening to any more?"

Hibari did not hesitate to step away regardless, and countered, "You've explained yourself already."

"What about the debt? There's still one more thing I was going to tell you."

... Hibari stopped in his tracks and turned around, sending a glare her way. Even through that, she smiled to utter her last words: "Thanks for visiting, Hibari. You can stop wasting time on me now."

Hibari huffed, and walked away from the room, ignoring Kusakabe passing by him to enter it in turn. That was his first and last visit to the hospital for the elderly woman, and she passed away that very night.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Hibari stepped for the cafeteria, calmly and slowly, though a frown adorned his features. It was supposed to be the same song and dance, only without that old woman to interact with him in the others' stead. Even so, to smoothen the process of getting his food was her only practical purpose in the cafeteria, and Hibari had already extracted all information about the school the woman possessed. As such, it stood to reason that Hibari's usual attendance to the cafeteria would be almost unchanged.

... Yet, the moment he had neared the counter, hearing the women whisper among each other fearfully trying to decide which one was brave enough to face the tyrannical middle schooler, he felt his mood sink low enough to warrant an instinctive release of his tonfas. It was admittedly aided by the memory of that old woman talking down on him, but she was no more, while the other staff was still present to annoy him. It was clear which people he would focus on, then. Even despite the light memory of the woman slowly walking for that counter, asking that very same question he was neither keen on or adverse to; but it at least never annoyed him.

The two women could not see the weapons he was gripping, and when one tall young woman tip toed for the counter with an artificial smile, already another aspect of her he did not like, he had decided to test the waters. Hibari did happen to be hungry, after all. He reminded himself of that rather than the hospital and the past sight of the counter, and locked eyes with the woman expectantly. "G-good morning. Is there a-anything in particular you **—** "

"The usual," he stated without regard for whatever she was barely managing to tell him, hoping to quicken the situation. He was sure that waiting around, seated by himself would at least calm him somewhat. However, against his expectations, the woman was tilting her head to the side ever so slightly, a trembling hand over her mouth as she sent glances her colleagues way as if requesting her help. Said colleague had probably not even been listening to the conversation, shivering in the background and shaking her head slowly to signify her helplessness before the situation.

"The..." Another glance. Hibari could count them by the passing seconds. "Usual...?" Hibari's increasing anger went without saying, and he leaned closer to the counter. He had not noticed the motion himself, but it stemmed mostly from his urge to bite something to death, evident in his unyielding, sharp gaze completely locked onto the herbivore in front of him.

The woman had practically jumped back in fear, even before he had spoken: "You were here before she died, weren't you? Make it quick," he ordered, "or I'll bite you to death." Simple and straightforward, the command should have given them no room for argument, and had they been that old woman, he would have gone to that seat and wait, trusting them to be at work. However, they were not her, and he did not need to threaten her to begin with. It was convenient, seeing as he only wanted to eat: she would cook, and he would await that; maybe even amuse himself amidst the impatience. Now, he would stare at the fearful women like the unreliable weaklings they were, and the feeling of relaxation associated with the cafeteria was crumbling by the second.

Hibari snapped out of his remembrances of the dead woman, even if brought up for comparison's sake, and watched the woman behind the other try to step aside, heading perhaps for the door, almost as if to escape. The tall woman, who at least had the boldness to try to face him, was taking far too long to say something or to start acting. "Actually, I, we **—** " When she did, he did not figure she had decided not to face Hibari's future anger were she to commit a mistake in giving him the wrong order, because Hibari had no regard for the circumstances of others. As far as he was concerned, he wanted food in the allocated time period he had demanded it, and he would get it no matter the circumstances. He would have perhaps clarified it were he in a better mood, but the more he continued thinking back to the sheer ease in entering and having a conversation that would never affect anything or bind him anywhere, the more he would start not thinking of the current situation. "Um, the staff here was usually charged with washing the dishes," she said, and upon glancing back, was noting her cowardly companion's shifty self nearing the exit and stepped back herself. "The others, th-they didn't appear today **—** " Her words were useless, since he was not listening. Instead, her fatal mistake lay in that one step noted immediately by Hibari's predatory gaze: if only she had simply agreed, known what to say, walked with a clear destination, anything at all **—** How odious herbivores were, truly. And now that old woman, the keeper of the ideal cafeteria in his school despite everything was gone irrepairably, leaving behind a gaping hole tainting the harmony. How irritating, how truly _infuriating **—**_

The next thing the woman knew, there was a tonfa shoved through the glass encasing what would have been a small shelf to place prospective plates of food, and an arm uncaring of the glass shards that could have stuck to its skin stretching ever closer to the woman. That familiar counter was a nuisance now without that woman barely seen behind it; it stood stiffly before his path to biting the two to death. Whoever they were, whatever they were, and it never did matter as they were all the same. The woman shrieked, frightened, and that only served to make the snapping sound within the confines of Hibari's mind fade in realization of his own actions, and he eyed his arm in a strangely apathetic manner.

It was rare for Hibari to feel pain. Most would be knocked out before they could hurt Hibari. It hurt now, and that had also perhaps contributed to his waning bout of extreme fury, but he felt nothing if not the slightest tinge of displeasure from the wasted action and time. The counter had yet to disappear, even if he could now easily jump over to bite the two to death. Reminding himself of their existence, having been distracted by the arm before, he looked up to locate the women and started to analyze the situation. They were heading for the door out of the kitchen, which would lead to the cafeteria room, in turn. They thought they could outrun Hibari, pitifully enough, but that was not a factor to be attentive to in comparison to the damage he had caused to that counter; school property... Hibari grimaced. It was almost as if that glass had not been meant to exist at the time. As far he could understand, the cafeteria itself felt like a burden then and there.

Somehow, Hibari was not hungry anymore. Regardless, a strange sense of emptiness filled him as he finally retracted his bleeding arm and thinking back on the cafeteria, and he watched the two women pass him by with fearful whimpers, dashing at their top speed. The usual crowding herbivores; ones he would ignore in favor of her if only so he would not be destroying the very kitchen he needed used for his lunch, back then. Though, now that he was there, without her to face him in that cynical manner that challenged him to taunt and anger and push her further, Hibari started to see that it was not simply her practical use that had him always feel like saying something more to the elderly lady whenever he would see her. He would have risen his fangs to strike at the easy prey, but decided instead to close his eyes, pretending not to see them. "I lost my appetite." Following that quiet, somewhat weary mutter was the thought of his situation. He wanted Kusakabe for now, at the very least... And perhaps the infirmary. Nothing else.

After all, whatever it was that Hibari lost in the cafeteria, it had originated from that woman, and she was dead. Hibari did not mull over the dead: knowing that he could never get back what was once with her, he treaded away from the cafeteria, never intending to step foot on it again. As far as he was concerned, it no longer existed. The fact that the two women quit their jobs was only a bonus to his following measure of closing the cafeteria down from lack of staff, and a way for his thoughts never to drift to the old woman and her berating words ever again.

Naturally, he had not attended the principal's speech honouring her memory, and he did not attend her funeral, either. When he received a report from Kusakabe detailing he did, Hibari sent him flying onto the shut door of the reception room without hesitation, but not even he knew why he did, and he certainly did not question it further. From then on, the topic of that woman and the cafeteria had become taboo for the Disciplinary Committee and the student body alike, while Hibari himself had been quick to focus on other matters so as to float past the issue that did not exist anymore, like a cloud in the sky moving on from the storm.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Years later, and that day supposed to be like any other ended with a small consideration. The slightest recollection that Hibari had let slip through, and replaced instead with more thoughts on that destined meeting. That very moment he was chasing that bizarre herbivore whose transition to bold strength was still incomprehensible, he had been interrupted. He had faced that small infant, smirking in pre-established victory despite there being no battle to begin with between the two. If he had bothered to taunt Hibari, however, he certainly would not deny the chance.

His fang clashed with only a makeshift weapon that truly was not the infant's preference. The thought of a weapon on that unknown existence had already been unexpected, but the fact that he had not budged a single milimeter from the considerable strike was the best part. "Wow," Hibari uttered marvelling the standstill caused by the infant's strength able to match his own. "You're impressive." He remembered only those words intensely, as the rest of the events were less important. In comparison to that respectable strength which he had never encountered before, crowding herbivores were simply not the least bit relevant. He was sure then that he had finally found someone of his caliber.

And that infant left the school, composed as any powerful entity would be in face of none who could possibly rival him, bidding farewell to the herbivores by the gates and leaving them behind to assert his own way of life. A match; that infant was a someone worthy of being able to act as cheekily as he did. He was a challenge he would take his time to overcome, a prospective fight he was looking forward to greatly in the future, but he was in no rush because he knew he would continue being there. He gazed through the window of the reception room at the gates, and even the crowd was leaving, by then. Hibari's thoughts, however, were still in how he could ever get that infant to fight him, and what sort of things that infant could bring as a novelty to the school.

It seemed like a first time, and it should have been, facing someone worth his time, with an attitude befitting their strength. However, thinking back to that daring, but not malicious wording in that infant had the faintest undesirable memory surface him, warranting a scowl.

_"But on the other hand, you've still got a whole life ahead of you, and lots more people to meet. One day, you'll be surrounded by those in-betweens wherever you go, and you'll have a much more fun life than you think you're having. Just then, you might start being less of a hopeless case and graduate from the school."_

He dismissed it immediately, unsure and uncaring of why it had surged to begin with. After all, Hibari was still not planning on graduating any time soon, and that woman was still wrong. Wrong, and dead, away from his affairs. He had consequentially only thought back on her again years after, letting himself watch and act upon whatever he pleased in the middle of the conflicts and events brought by that small animal and the infant.

Incidentally, that particular year was the one marking his graduation from Namimori Middle School, and he did not regret either prospect.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Now, a grown Hibari is free to reminisce and look down on his younger self for his lack of foresight, but he never does dwell on that part. Frustrating as it was, Hibari had been bested by a mere old woman and her sagely advice, and only many years later did the deceased woman prove herself right before him by doing nothing whatsoever. A weakling, she certainly was, but she had a head on her shoulders. After all, she had almost been able to predict the reason he had graduated from Namimori Middle School later into his life, and he had been left in the dark for years on the meaning behind her words. Regardless, Hibari can smirk thinking of the topic, of the fact that he had indeed found those 'in-betweens' she had told him about, because that is all that matters, in the end; the results. Whatever resulted from the past pales in comparison to the achievements of the present, and Hibari knows better than to use reminiscing for anything other than his self-satisfaction, because some things are worth thinking about. Their worth, in the end, is in the way he can continue to improve taking reference from the past and applying it to the future, and re-affirming his current strength as a consequence. His current strength, and his love for the town of Namimori, which gave him so much to experience.

Hibari is still not a man to dwell on the dead, so instead he amuses himself thinking of the many possibilities that have opened up to him when it comes to fighting stronger opponents, growing ever more powerful, travelling the world and seeking knowledge **—** Nothing of which his younger self had in clear sight in comparison to his more thoughtful future self, who can establish goals and acknowledge that part of them exist due to his meetings and partings through life, and his flimsy connection with one mafia boss who will inevitably be bitten to death one day. However, until that day, he will make the most out of trying and biding his time, and pursue more than his proud fortress standing even ten years after the turn of events with that noisy crowd he still can not truly tolerate being in the presence of.

_"Hibari, Hibari...!" The clear voice of that very first bird resounded left and right, and Hibari calmly followed it with his gaze. "Having fun? Having fun?"_

_"Fun?" he had initially uttered, finding the bird's question unexpected. Even so, in light of his meeting with the infant prior to the conversation, and that rowdy crowd's reccuring messes, some strange feeling had him inclined to keep that easy smirk he was keeping before. "Sure. I might just be having fun." Then, he looked away from the bird, and into the endless sky, somehow content with the newfound expectations he held, which he had only now noticed. For some reason, the infant was not the first figure that had come to mind, but even that did not matter, in the end. "I have a feeling lots of interesting things will happen from now on."_

Such a short moment in his life occurs to him haphazardly as he muses further on that old woman, finding that even back then, he was starting to know the effects of being involved with others who could stimulate him. That small animal who he once held not even a sliver of respect for is now an admirable opponent along with his ever-impressive tutor, and it was that horizon he was shown through the sky the Vongola boss so encompassed. Hibari has learned and grown, truthfully, just as she had told him. In evolving past the boundaries of even the school, he finally graduated, and faced that future the old woman had seen in him before her death. As such, he does not gaze at that building from afar missing its scenery, but as if to bid it another farewell, to use the past as just another tool and incentive to continue his work in the Foundation, chasing after his true interests and keeping the peace of Namimori under unwavering ideals.

"Kyo-san." He hears a voice from behind him, and he turns around calmly, almost as if expecting his presence.

"Tetsu," he acknowledges still with that smile on his face which would have wilted were he only a few years younger and conscious of Kusakabe's submissive demeanour. That, too, is something he looks past now that he has faced the contributions Kusakabe ultimately had to his life. Unlike with that old lady, Hibari is not willing to make the mistake of shunning his words entirely rather than taking up that challenge and expand the sky of his life.

His subordinate **—** his friend from far too many years to count **—** smiles along with Hibari, and the twinkle in his eyes almost conveys that he knows what Hibari is thinking at the moment. "Still reminiscing?" he asks softly, humbly, but his voice carries a certain confidence to it that marks his certainty on the topic.

"No," is Hibari's answer, but even that fails to faze Kusakabe, and Hibari knew that would be the case. "I was just about done." He briefly closes his eyes, only to glance back to the school building for one last mental parting with those memories. Then, he starts to walk forward, passing by Kusakabe. "Let's return to the base."

"At once," Kusakabe utters as he follows behind his leader with a composure boosted by familiarity. The two have a long way until the base's entrance proper, only because they are more than willing to walk there rather than taking a car. It is the usual procedure for Hibari and the day he would return to Namimori from one of his trips; a tradition none complains about. Even one Tsunayoshi Sawada would sometimes join in at his own discretion, bring his crowd with him unwillingly despite the secrecy of his own trip and incur the irritation of his cloud guardian under the pretense of the chaotic noise and unwarranted gathering. That kind of behaviour continues to characterize Kyoya Hibari, but he has certainly changed in ways only the few who carefully observed him can see.

Kusakabe, for one, seeks to prove it now when a piece of information popped to mind, received while Hibari was out walking through the town, peaceful as always. His smile wider, his gaze expectant, Kusakabe says in that unintrusive tone of his, "By the way, I've heard just today that Nami-Middle has plans to finally re-introduce a cafeteria." In spite of the topic, truthfully not one he has brought up in decades from the rule against that special room before, Hibari continues to walk, showing no changes in his posture. It is almost as if he has not heard Kusakabe, though Kusakabe himself is sure he did and is patient enough to wait for the reaction with hidden joyful nostalgia.

The first thing Kusakabe hears is a faint, low hum of vacant interest. Then, a rhetoric question: "Is that so?" Kusakabe knows then that Hibari's expression, though he cannot see it from his position, has changed by only the slightest margin. He can already imagine that smile widening, and his leader knowing fully well of Kusakabe's intentions with bringing it up, but he is far past caring about minute things such as those. Instead, Hibari marks his position firmly, and focuses his gaze on the cloudy sky. "It's about time they did that, really."

Hibari does not dwell on the dead, but Kusakabe is different. As such, hearing that from Hibari, he sees that elderly woman smile from beyond that sky Hibari had gazed at, and he believes that despite everything, she would be proud of him now.

Now, with Kyoya Hibari truly free.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd originally posted this on fanfiction.net but I remembered I had an account here so I figured I'd start posting stuff with this two-shot because it's simpler and doesn't require full chapter re-writes. Though, unfortunately, there's a character limit on literally everything, so my original author's notes have to get condensed into this thing I'm writing at the spur of the moment, which I think is a little sad considering those notes were pretty much a way to invite discussion on Hibari's character. I'm all about interpreting characters and seeing different interpretations, so it's only natural I'd give out my thoughts on writing this weird character study for the sake of discussion.
> 
> Whatever the case, I basically got the idea of Hibari and the cafeteria after wondering where the hell Hibari eats his lunch. We just never see him eat. Rather, we never even see a cafeteria at all-- Does the school just not have a cafeteria? This, and the fact that it was fun imagining Hibari eating lunch at the cafeteria out of love for his school were what compelled me to write this, even if it ends up being more about Hibari's growth as a character and discussing philosophy with an old lady lol The setting itself is just a cafeteria, and it made sense to make up a cafeteria lady so Hibari would have something to do in the story so she turned out like that, all cynical but competitive. I couldn't just describe Hibari peacefully having lunch and call it a day...
> 
> I'm personally glad about the way it turned out, in the sense that I could delve into Hibari's character more with that third person limited perspective and calling back to moments like when Hibari met Reborn or that one drama CD where Tsuna is trying to observe Hibari to sort of create a plausible background to stuff that happens in the future. The old lady herself actually did nothing special, but that's more or less a given with Hibari since he's so detached from things and just doesn't care. He didn't even know her name, in the end. Either way, this set the stage to run with a bunch of headcanons, but I honestly think you can see Hibari's past and ideas in so many different ways even I'd alternate them between stories. I've got a Hibari-centric story in the works, and this one's more or less some kind of preliminary training on it, but that one also runs with completely different headcanons so I basically can go along anything.
> 
> Either way, I had this huge rant about how Hibari's favorite word isn't HN and that he actually knows how to speak, but I probably can't fit in the descriptions of canon to prove it so whatever, you'll just have to take my word for it that Hibari does speak. He speaks whenever he wants to and in this strangely elegant but casual way, which, to be honest, gives him a lot more character than if his speech were more expected out of the kind of violent guy he is. Hibari pretty much stays quiet if he doesn't feel like speaking and vice versa, and when he does listen, he only takes what he likes out of it in a bout of huge selective hearing, which adds to the mysterious edge of what he ends up saying because those words are based off only of parts that he bothered with in relation to the full picture, or even just what he felt like saying. I honestly think Hibari's more aloof than anything, so everything ends up being at his own pace and he just goes with the flow, taking down anything in his way.
> 
> The story ends up more like a collection of memories, and a lot of it is discussion of ideals or anything similar, and I think Hibari is prone to talking of things like that seeing all the times in canon he just openly talks about his ideals with Hibari telling in his introduction that he hates herbivores who crowd and in his fight with Adelheid where he pretty much just talks of his ideals and their relation with Tsuna; there are a few examples, basically. I gotta stop myself now or I'll really go on, but the narration was kind of catering to Hibari, who's more uncaring, while Kusakabe's chapter will have a bias toward Kusakabe's perspective in turn, so I'm hoping it'll feel kind of different. Hopefully you can look forward to that?


	2. Tetsuya Kusakabe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before starting, I'd like to sincerely thank the 7 people who gave out their kudos and the one subscription. I'm also grateful to the comments, but I'm sure that's obvious considering I've responded to them. I'm not very familiar with this archive of our own business, to be honest, so if there's one thing that gets to me is how the site doesn't just count comment threads? People don't need to think a bunch of different readers commented when it was mostly all replies; it just sounds like a way to discourage replying to me. Though, I couldn't bear not to reply, so...

April 27th, fourteen years ago. Kusakabe remembered the day itself as clearly as any important memory, but even he could wryly admit he was too self-conscious of the date. Moreso than Hibari, at any rate; but part of him always thought it may as well be his duty to keep track of the details he would not bother remembering. Though, in that particular case, Kusakabe knew the day had been etched to Hibari's mind, as well.

And he knew just as well that he had proven her wrong through the years. Those were the thoughts that would cross his mind leaving flowers neatly upon a freshly-clean graveyard on which the name 'Ritsuko Kagashima' was engraved, the only ones that would ever find their way there in the Namimori cemetery. In the end, Hibari was a better man, a great leader, and the figure Kusakabe had always come to respect; someone who could not ever be called hopeless. He would utter that in his mind as if uttering it to her, seeing the mirage of her rugged features smiling in resignation, because even she could not deny that Hibari had graduated of his own accord, that he had taken a step forward in his own pursuits, and that many people would see it the same way. Small and slow as they were, Kusakabe could see changes, and she was sure to see them all the same, from the heavens no less. As for himself, however...

Kusakabe would let his gaze drift away from the immaculate grave and the flowers he had left for the sake of the tangible corpse underneath, and focus on another grave to the horizon. Perhaps Ritsuko had indeed already acknowledged Hibari at that point, and was instead scolding Kusakabe for his own shortcomings; perhaps she was only waving them off as his 'usual overthinking'. Regardless, when he saw beyond the sole Kagashima he knew the name 'Satomi Ueno' on another grave, he could not help but regret the fact that he never had the courage to ask when 'she' had died so he would pay his respects at the proper date. Instead, he had to content himself with investigating on his own, thinking of a past he could not fix.

He shook his head, hoping to dismiss his concerns. Now that he had finished his business with the Namimori Cemetery, Kusakabe had no reason to wallow in what he did wrong when he had so much to right. He mustered a smile, instead shifting his focus again to the positive aspects of his current life in the Foundation. Though, he never could help being nostalgic. "Goodbye, ma'am," he would whisper before turning around, knowing he would see her again by the next year, no matter what would cost him.

At the very least, he would accomplish the only promise he made to her.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

The first time Kusakabe had met her was the first time the chairman had, but his view on the matter was limited relatively to Hibari's. He was on standby near the entrance joined by two other subordinates, and it was the Disciplinary Committee's second week in school. It had been a rowdy few days when it came to adjusting to the new environment, and Hibari was meaning to get to know every facility in the school to determine its use and the allocation of the school's funds, which they were in the process of taking into account in the committee's administration. The three committee members on standby were merely a precaution, a means to handle anything Hibari himself did not deem worth his time; Kusakabe peeked into the entrance warily. The student body was appropriately seated considering the time, and Hibari was managing to ignore them for one purpose only: to attain lunch himself.

On the first week, he was too busy to truly explore the school grounds and was just ajusting to the rules and asserting his superiority, so he would have Kusakabe bring him something in his stead. However, he had always expressed his desire to eat in the cafeteria, and experience things that 'only the school could provide'. In a way, Hibari's current entrance in the cafeteria was a test to note if the facility was up to his standards and according to his ideals, and he had chosen to visit merely because it was lunch break. He had not attended class, but when it came to scheduling it, it was only logical to prioritize other business and have lunch when hungry, at the set time. Before his venture into the crowded area, Hibari had been dealing with other committees, evaluating their assigned rooms and checking on the equipment, among other tasks natural of the Disciplinary Committee. The cafeteria was located in a strange position, in a wing of the school not all that close to the classrooms, and the amount of students in the area was not enough to fill all seats, at least.

With clear disregard for the formed line, as expected, Hibari walked directly for the counter, and Kusakabe watched the back of his reliable leader with a grimace. It was not Hibari who had originated the souring mood; it was the sight of other boys glaring him down. They would probably underestimate Hibari, and greatly regret it. "Hey," Hibari called out to the old woman in the very front, who was eyeing him skeptically. Her squinted eyes were barely visible from Kusakabe's distance, and most of her face was being omitted, but he had a feeling she, too, was not too keen on his actions. Even so, she had always been slow in her wording and intonation, so the first one to protest was a tall student stepping closer to Hibari, almost dangerously into his personal space.

"The hell are you cutting the line for? Get back over there," he demanded before pointing to the supposed end of the queue, by the middle of one of the tables next to the window. Kusakabe had glanced in that direction, immediately verifying Hibari would sooner beat the amount of students lined up to death than actually comply, so he started to send certain looks to his fellow committee members. They went a long way; they were sure to understand that cautionary gaze. One of them, Aikawa, entered before Kusakabe at his quiet, implicit order after being urged with Kusakabe's glances alone, and Kusakabe followed suit. Even so, they were not interfering just yet. The subordinate who had then walked behind Kusakabe was glaring over the tables, as if to silence the rest of the students on whatever noise they could make on their presence.

Kusakabe had seen that scenario coming, in truth, and suggested his affirmative action to Hibari before being on standby. Had he not done so, Hibari would have attacked them, as well. However, Hibari himself had more pending business to handle, and it was not wasting time on weaklings that hardly compared to his level of strength. Hibari had spared that tall student a single ice-cold glance, only to huff and turn back to the main cafeteria lady regarding the situation with crossed arms. She seemed to have noticed the tall figures of the Disciplinary Committee members walking into the room, as she had closed her previously open mouth she was probably going to use to speak out, and decided to watch the situation, especially considering the circumstances.

"Hey," Hibari calmly repeated facing the woman with a thin frown. "I was wondering what you serve here. Could you bring out the food already?" The chairman was probably able to spot the tall student click his tongue and crack his knuckles from the corner of his eye, but he remained entirely neutral to that stance in favour of his more important priorities and empty stomach, even as other, shorter boys seemed to be treading behind him. Kusakabe did not know at the time because Hibari was still not quite acquainted with the clubs, but the tall student was the president of the basketball club, which was of no particular note in the school.

Since the basketball club disbanded about two days after the conflict they had caused, it was only obvious the fate they had been met with for crowding around Hibari. "Listen when somebody speaks to you...!" The tall student took the chance to supposedly catch the chairman off-guard with his focus on the cafeteria lady and attempted to lunge for Hibari, but Aikawa, the subordinate at the very front was quick to grab at him by the shoulder soundlessly, warranting a flinch from the club captain. The student immediately looked towards him, not noting the other time Hibari deigned to glance in his direction, and was about to fling his other fist to the committee member that had apparently provoked him from his actions alone, but Aikawa's scowl and firm gaze were enough to prove his confidence.

He caught the student's fist, and whispered near his face, "Take one more step in the chairman's direction, and it won't just be us three you'll be dealing with." Just as expected, Aikawa would deliver; he dragged the tall student by his arm without even meeting his eyes, instead glancing for Kusakabe to confirm his actions.

"'Chairman'?! The f **—** "

Kusakabe nodded lightly his way, smiling in a congratulatory fashion for a job efficiently done. He was then quick to eye the student in his grasp warily, cracking his own knuckles for any prospective conflict. "You wouldn't want to cause a ruckus, would you?" Kusakabe voiced from next to the tables, reasonably so as far as he knew. Though, it was not out of mercy; he narrowed his eyes menacingly. "If you and your group are so eager, there are better places to settle things."

"We were just here to have lunch when this guy up and cut the line! Don't get in the way!" a student behind the club captain exclaimed and even attempted to charge one of his companions, but the other subordinate behind him, Aonuma stepped closer to them, towering them even before he was centimeters away from the two, obstructing the passage to their leader.

"You're better off doing as he says," Aonuma lowly warned, composed as to be expected of the Disciplinary Committee. He had directed a glance the chairman's way, if only to ascertain he was not about to act on his own, grimacing in light of recollections of similar events. "The price of messing with the Disciplinary Committee is a heavy one."

Kusakabe only gestured the two subordinates to leave, and Aonuma quickly grabbed at the other two to follow the subtle orders. "Are you listening?" Hibari asked while Kusakabe was silently urging the two subordinates to go before him, as he still had the rest of the group to apprehend on his own, and they were still five. Kusakabe sent a glare to the rest of the queue, and it did not seem so willing to face off the exceedingly tall and threatening members of the committee, particularly Kusakabe, so they slowly distanced themselves from Hibari while Kusakabe neared the protesting remnants of that small revolt without hesitation.

"Now, just you all wait a second here!" If not for that foreign voice interjecting in the events of the room, Kusakabe and the others would not have stopped, but they knew fully that they were being referenced. However, that voice was female, and clearly not of the same age range as a normal girl's. Kusakabe looked towards the counter, its origin, and saw the old woman staring past Hibari and focusing her attention on Kusakabe and the others instead. Kusakabe grimaced: simply looking at the elderly woman had him concerned for her wellbeing considering she was practically ignoring the chairman. "You with the funky hairstyle; over here! Bring your friends over, too!" It was the first and one of the only times the cafeteria lady had ever raised her voice, and her furrowed eyebrows were the minimal indicator of her indignation that Kusakabe could see from behind Hibari.

Admittedly enough, he had thought the cafeteria staff would not interfere, especially when the others were simply whispering among each other in fear, all of them young women unable to stand up to the committee members. Kusakabe hesitated, as such, because he pitied the woman for her needlessly reckless behavior in face of the Disciplinary Committee. Were Hibari to even land a blow on her with his weapons, she was sure to be more affected than any student far younger than her, so Kusakabe felt almost compelled to intervene. Kusakabe ordered his subordinates to stop by extending his palm briefly, ignoring the students in his grasp who appeared similarly confused by the old lady's behavior.

"What are you shouting about?" Hibari asked as a casual retort, his low voice belying only a slight amount of frustration Kusakabe considered damning to its beholder. Kusakabe could not see his expression from his position, but he was sure that Hibari's gaze was frigid, merciless in its scrutiny and telling of his underlying anger at being ignored. "You're supposed to be serving food."

It was only and finally then the cafeteria lady had shifted her gaze to the chairman, and her eyebrows furrowed further, revealing the full extent of her face's wrinkles. "And what do you think I'm stopping them for? It's to serve them the food," she argued before tilting her head to the side so as to see Kusakabe and his subordinates without an obstruction. "Are they supposed to be your friends?"

"They're watchdogs," Hibari said with a fast speed contrasting with the old woman's mellow intonation, if only because of how easy it was to correct the matter. None of the committee members so much as flinched from the response, but they did tense, casting their gaze down with the slight shame. It was a familiar sentiment, though Kusakabe would manage to continue to stare so as to seem as though he was not feeling the same way and propagate a reputation of weakness for himself. "You don't have to bother with them. More importantly, you should be focusing on my demands."

"Oh, yeah?" the old woman uttered in a dry, if apathetic fashion, suicidal in the eyes of Kusakabe in regards to Hibari. "I heard one of your 'watchdogs' mention something about a Disciplinary Committee. I've been here for as long as the school has and I've only ever known about the Student Council." That very moment, however, Kusakabe and his subordinates were glancing each others' ways with lightly arched eyebrows, conveying only confusion. As far as Kusakabe was aware, the principal had supposedly warned the faculty and staff of the Disciplinary's position in the school so as to avoid needless misunderstandings, but the cafeteria lady's own skeptical gaze was telling of her ignorance.

Hibari was sure to have noticed as well, Kusakabe noted, as he pensively hummed, perhaps with some hint of newly-found interest laced in the sound. "Is that so?" The assertion of the Disciplinary Committee to the school had been Hibari's idea, after all: failure to execute orders was liable to punishment. At the very least, to Kusakabe's relief, the committee members would not be the ones to suffer that time around. "The Student Council is gone, by the way," Hibari deigned to inform, and Kusakabe could envision the smirk on his features that moment, "The Disciplinary Committee is the new authority now."

The old woman's eyes narrowed, her iris nigh invisible now in her expression of slow doubt which all in the cafeteria tensely observed in light of the latent danger. Whispers would resound faintly, most of concern for the cafeteria lady for her well-being or of the strange new student and the strange new committee brought along with him. Soon enough those voices would be silenced, but Kusakabe was equally as thoughtful as the peanut gallery, pondering as well on whether Hibari's vague phrasing was purposeful or otherwise. "Authority, huh? I don't know about any of your school scuffles, but the cafeteria's for eating, not for fights," she said before outstretching her hand to point to the side, towards a wall in which a small, inconspicuous door was placed, facing Hibari still with a troubled frown. "So, why don't you enter the kitchen?" Her finger then moved lightly to point to Kusakabe, only to be retracted after out-living its purpose. "Have your committee people let go of the boys and you'll be eating people-free and with priority, any time you want; if you want to sort out any other details, you can just do it there, too."

Hibari did not immediately respond to the offer, and the silence in that pause was deafening, creating suspense for all involved while he merely pondered, though Kusakabe himself could not possibly understand what exactly the chairman was pondering. No one did, in fact, but everyone could see that his every thought and word was as heavy as a concrete object, and as sharp as knives. Though, his voice, soft and of a velvet constitution contrasted with the notion, and it had assumed the tone of pure curiosity when Hibari spoke: "Even though it's against the school regulations, you're fine with that?"

Kusakabe suspected it to be a threat, an implied taunt from Hibari, relentless in his rule-imposition despite the tendency to play by his own rules. Hibari had naturally memorized the rulebook for Namimori Middle School very quickly in the passing weeks, and knew exactly what reasons to use to release his weapons. Kusakabe yet again considered if intervening in the old woman's stead was a good idea, but she had been faster than Hibari's previous statement when she spoke: "Sure I am," she responded casually, the nonchalance more apathetic than cynical as the focus in her gaze shifted from Hibari to the armband hanging lightly on the sleeve of Hibari's fluttering jacket. "I can see you're supposed to be some prefect..." She crossed her arms, her weary eyes now on Hibari's again, despite the menacing shimmer they would hold whether amused or irritated. How she could bear that, Kusakabe noted, he could not possibly tell. "But as far as I'm concerned, that kind of thing's a small price to pay for peace in the cafeteria."

The conviction in her words was palpable enough that Hibari had yet again been simply processing it in silence, but Kusakabe could most of all detect that determination in her motionless self, lacking in the hesitation to waver or shiver beyond the limitations of her elderly body. Kusakabe sent another glance to Aikawa and Aonuma, whose uncertain looks indicated they, too, were entirely unable to guess at the chairman's answer. Perhaps from a change in Hibari's expression, the old lady's furrowed eyebrows came lightly loose, as if to display the smallest hint of hope. Contrary to that notion, Hibari huffed condescendingly. "Really, now? That's an interesting way of seeing it. I'll accept your offer, then," Hibari uttered with equal assertivity, but the moderate amusement he felt seeped into his voice before Kusakabe could even verify the smile on his face. Hibari had turned around to speak with Kusakabe, and Kusakabe offered a small nod of acknowledgement. "Kusakabe. You can let go of them and leave this place." Hibari's eyes narrowed in on the basketball club members, regarding them in nothing but a cold fashion as he noted their glares, but the smile was intact, as if their presence could not deter him whims. "Sort those out later." 'Those', as though they could not even qualify as equals.

"Yessir!" Kusakabe answered quickly and easily in spite of his sympathy, as Hibari at least seemed to be in a decent mood now, distant from the desire to propagate violence. He had turned to face the old lady again, only to tilt his head in the door's direction. Hibari then walked calmly, composed as one would expect from a figure so naturally superior as the chairman as Aikawa and Aonuma retracted their holds on the basketball club members and Kusakabe did the same, letting them escape in their panic and desperation.

While the whimpers resounded in the cafeteria, and Kusakabe was gesturing for his subordinates to be dismissed befor him, he could hear Hibari speak as he headed for the door: "Also, I remember you said you've been here as long as the school. That would mean you're familiar with its entire History..." Kusakabe momentarily blinked processing Hibari grab at the handle, truthfully preparing to enter the kitchen area despite having simply been able to beat all those who would stand in his way, as usual. The whispers of concern for the elderly lady had transformed to whispers of relief and confusion, and Kusakabe saw himself feeling both those emotions, and a tinge of awe that had come from the simplicity of the situation's resolution, an exception from the norm considering even the extent of the old lady's honest albeit clueless demeanour. Kusakabe filed out of the cafeteria when Hibari's voice was muffled by the walls and silent to those farthest from the room, but his mind was still permeated with thoughts of the committee's first venture into the cafeteria of Namimori Middle School.

Hibari had complied to an offer from a simple cafeteria lady, much to Kusakabe's longstanding surprise. Furthermore, it was reportedly agreed between the her and Hibari that he would appear at a time emptied of students, so Kusakabe's presence was unnecessary for any other visit. The staff at the front had been replaced with a younger woman while they had settled matters, and the rest of the Disciplinary Committee was only made to deal with the misbehaving basketball club leader after lunch hours, as it was also never agreed that the Disciplinary Committee was unallowed to teach them a lesson they could not forget.

Regardless, that was only the usual procedure of the committee. That cafeteria lady, on the other hand, had managed to persuade Kyoya Hibari successfully after meeting him for the first time, and that was nothing if not impressive to Tetsuya Kusakabe, who was admittedly nothing if not curious about the woman named Ritsuko Kagashima.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Despite his curiosity, however, he was only able to properly speak to the old woman one week afterwards, when he got a legitimate opportunity; a direct order from the chairman. He entered the cafeteria by the afternoon, but took to leave the two other subordinates behind, by the entrance as he walked for the counter, from where he could still see the woman's short figure in the kitchen's horizon. As much as he still was not quite able to process it, it was that woman who managed to persuade Hibari in one go, and it was certainly she who managed to have Hibari's interest to the point he would diligently attend the school's cafeteria for the entire week.

Now, her back was turned to the counter, and Kusakabe was forced to utter, "Excuse me, ma'am..." The words trailed awkwardly as he attempted to understand what exactly was keeping her busy to begin with, and he noted her gloved hands holding a single plate, while the other was invisible from the angle he was positioned. Kusakabe glanced to either side, but there were no signs of the co-workers he had first seen cowering by the back of the kitchen room, and the cafeteria lady was alone. As of then, even Hibari had already left the cafeteria, and he would arrive beyond the usual lunchtime. Had the Ritsuko offered to cater to Hibari without requesting help from her peers, if only because they had no professional obligation to do so? He had always assumed the Ritsuko had convinced the rest of the staff by the simple prospect of an angry Hibari, but he was cleanly faced with the wrongness of his assumptions.

"Hmm?" Ritsuko halted the motions of her task with the drawn out sound, only to carefully place the plate back into the dish washer. She returned what appeared to be a sponge to the edge of the dish washer as well, and proceeded to look behind her. "Well, now..." She blinked, as if not immediately able to process the sight of Kusakabe, and retracted a hand that was about to contact the left side of her chin for its rubber constitution. She did not bother removing said gloves, however, and simply walked for the counter, her figure becoming ever shorter the more she would approach. "Aren't you one of Hibari's lackeys? I don't see you by the cafeteria often," Ritsuko remarked with only light curiosity, overwhelmed by the weary, perhaps even wry frown on her rugged features.

"The cafeteria would be ideal, but it wouldn't do to crowd without permission," Kusakabe stated at first as though uttering common sense, something he could easily tell the committee members, only to realize his mistake. "It's a rule in the committee." He had added that a few seconds later, when he witnessed the Ritsuko's eyebrows furrow in clear, unsubtle confusion.

Her expression had not so much as softened from the simple justification, however, and she dryly muttered, "Uh-huh..." To see her as unimpressed would be an understatement, as she had seemingly lost even the curious edge in her words with that single response, perhaps due to the bizarre nature of the committee's procedures. Naturally, Kusakabe was aware of an outsider's perspective on the matter, but he could never come to oppose the unique mindset of the chairman, and that acceptance allowed moments such as the current one to slip by unnoticed, much to his covert displeasure. "So, I'm guessing you're here on some of that committee business?"

"Yes," Kusakabe cleanly answered, "I was told by the chairman to give you these papers." Taking care not to crumple them in any way, Kusakabe calmly removed the papers in question from a pocket in his uniform trousers, unfolding them partially until it was only in half. He set them on top of the counter, minding the gloves the old lady was wearing, and hid his disapproval when she simply took the folded papers regardless of gloves' condition.

"I didn't hear anything from your chairman, though," she muttered as she opened them by the edges in case she could smudge the letters from the water, and squinted so as to focus on their content. Her eyesight was still reliable enough, but Kusakabe would only later find out she was supposed to have had glasses; ones he had never even seen her bring to school.

"I was only given the order," Kusakabe cooly said, composed expression unwavering even as he averted his gaze to the window, if only to note the lowering Sun in the sky pondering on Hibari. "The chairman doesn't need to justify himself." Ritsuko did not respond, as she was too focused on reading the papers to even listen. To further prove that, Kusakabe noted the Ritsuko's frown deepen with the passing seconds of silence he spent wondering if excusing himself was enough or if he could simply say he wanted to hear more from her. Though, before he could reach that conclusion, Ritsuko's wet gloves crumpled the papers at unexpectedly fast speeds for her usual demeanour, and they were a mere ball before he uttered with blinking eyes: "Wait, those are the chairman's **—** "

"He gave them to me, right?" she shot back with lacking hesitation before looking up from the papers and towards Kusakabe's expression of mild outrage, mild only because of his efforts to hide the shock behind his wavering gaze, unaware that his mouth was agape until he processed yet again the defiant expression of elderly cafeteria lady. Her eyebrows were arched in taunting doubt, and she smiled in a strained, wry fashion, as if holding back an intensity he had not quite expected to see out of her. "Then I can do whatever I want with them."

"But you can't simply tarnish the chairman's goodwill," Kusakabe hastily argued in spite of his shock, perhaps even due to it prompting the need for a desperate interjection in the old lady's actions, "Haven't you still figured just who you're dealing with?" His hand would almost reflexively reach for Ritsuko's to remove that paper, hoping to salvage the situation, but she was already looking to the side, down to an area he could not see from the other side of the counter.

"I'm dealing with a cheeky kid who's taking over the school, that's what," she uttered in her insolence before casually throwing the crumpled ball down to what Kusakabe assumed to be a trash can. "And if you think these are supposed to be his 'goodwill', you don't know a thing." Kusakabe tensed and showed the shadow of a grimace, uncertain as to whether to take her words as a threat or not, and how to handle someone of such a weak stature in regards to the committtee. However, she had yet to finish speaking, and she turned back to Kusakabe's direction to continue: "These papers are a taunt; and I'm not backing out of a challenge."

"If so, why would you crumple them like that at all?" Kusakabe asked, fists clenched and one already risen as high as his chest area.

"Following through would be losing," Ritsuko easily responded, "and he's not expecting me to go down that easily." Her expression had softened then, her gaze briefly halting on the signs of fury outrage in Kusakabe's stance. Her shoulders drooped further from an unfounded sense of security, and she locked eyes with Kusakabe. "See, uh..."

Her indecisive tone warranted the faintest hint of bitterness to show when he bothered to expose, "It's Tetsuya Kusakabe **—** "

"Right, Kusakabe." She nodded to herself slowly, taking in the information with every passing second. Her smile widened, though Kusakake could hardly understand why. "The stuff in these papers are recipes he dug out from somewhere just to provoke me. I don't go and submit to stuff like that willy-nilly, and he's sure not going to kill me if I don't. He's been piping in about the school menus, so I've got to make something that'll prove I got this job for a reason."

"Do you mean that you haven't been serving the chairman proper food, so he gave you recipes?"

"Hah, that's a good one!" Ritsuko burst through his genuine wary demeanour with a wholehearted chuckle, raspy and subdued only due to the nature of her own voice. Kusakabe could not help an awkward frown then, and he was unable to keep the tension he had built under his suspicions from the easygoing mood Ritsuko consistently displayed, as if unafraid of anything. "He didn't like the first dish I served him, but the others are apparently fine," she explained in a calmer manner after taking a deep breath, "It's always better when you have time to cook and it's just one person. Still, Hibari's expecting me to guess what he likes and make it good by the end of the week, so those are supposed to be his 'hints'."

"His hints..." Kusakabe muttered pensively with the full context of the situation in his grasp, understanding at least why Hibari had been vague in his orders and phrasing.

"Basically, he's a kid who likes messing with the elderly." However, it was Ritsuko who worded Kusakabe's conclusion in a nigh blasphemous fashion, leading Kusakabe to hold back the urge to flinch. He had assumed it as Hibari's conflictuous nature, sometimes engaging in games Kusakabe could only understand as means to quench his boredom, but the nonchalance in Ritsuko indicated something of a lesser scale; a mere childish prank. "Doesn't think of picking on people his own size."

That indiscreetly disrespectful mumble marked the assertion of the old lady's condescension for Hibari to Kusakabe, who finally saw it fit to send a glare her way, almost as a warning. "The chairman is free to do whatever he wants," Kusakabe claimed with cold composure for the concrete fact it constitured, "His authority is absolute."

"Oh, so you approve? I thought you might've even been there to keep him in check," Ritsuko remarked in return with piqued curiosity, but one she manifested indirectly; as if it were no priority of hers. The mere prospect she introduced, however, was enough to render Kusakabe distraught when he considered it, and his expression rapidly shifted from wary coldness yet again to awkward insecurity, much to his chagrin.

"I may be the vice-chairman, but I couldn't possibly assert myself before the chairman," Kusakabe countered after a partial moment of silence, "and the rest of the committee is as loyal as to be expected. Keeping the chairman 'in check'..." The word uttered as though coated in lowly poison, Kusakabe found himself grimacing the more he noted the moderately fierce edge to his arguments, but continued regardless as he had come so far already: "Would be going exactly against his wishes."

"Is that right...?" Ritsuko vacantly voiced, if only to fill the silence while she was pondering on Kusakabe's words.

"The chairman doesn't like being restrained, after all."

Despite the confident justification and the calm end to his argument, Kusakabe was met with a smile from the cafeteria lady, but one that did not convey an orthodox sense of positivity. Pity, maybe even resentment could be conveyed by that unguarded expression, and she tentatively peered into his convicted gaze with only an indescribable kind of cynicism in her eyes. "Well, ironic, isn't it?" she commented as if amused, hollowly so. "Being restrained and used by someone who prefers freedom."

Regardless, for once, Kusakabe was not disarmed, and simply narrowed his eyes thinking whether he was getting close or not to the cafeteria lady's real thoughts on Hibari and the committee, and her ways as a consequence. "It's the path I chose," Kusakabe asserted, neither too heavily nor too lightly because he had no need for exaggeration in his complete certainty.

Likely because she was able to detect that herself, Ritsuko offered a shrug, which Kusakabe received with furrowed eyebrows. "Have at it, then," she dismissively said, disinterest clear in her voice now of all times despite her moment of honest, intensifying an underlying confusion in Kusakabe; curiosity, even, as such a cynical-seeming, careless old lady had somehow drawn the chairman's interest, and Kusakabe had yet to understand that. "Any other business you've got with me?"

Kusakabe hesitated to respond at first. Part of him did want to ask her a few questions, particularly in the way she could so cleanly treat Hibari as though he were nothing more than a small irregularity in the cafeteria, but another wondered how exactly that would reflect on his and the committtee's reputation if he did ask or admit to the reccurring thoughts on his mind. He grimaced, and shook his head. "That was all," Kusakabe answered, "so I'll be taking my leave." Kusakabe walked out of the cafeteria at a swift pace, and was accompanied by the two subordinates on standby after he had passed by the entrance. They were also part of the reason why he had not asked questions at his leisure: he would not want the committee members to see a doubtful vice-chairman, one they could not rely on. However, he was sure not to get any further opportunities to talk to the cafeteria lady in peace, so he had to give up on the matter with his decision.

... At least, so he thought at the time.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"... And how, exactly, did you manage this?" Kusakabe warily asked, regarding the cafeteria lady almost as though she were some sort of witch. Her wry smile certainly did not alleviate the assumption, and the more he thought about it, the more he found something unsettling in her exceedingly careless demeanour. Only two days had passed since Kusakabe and half of the committee members were directed to the cafeteria once more, and Kusakabe could not afford to think of chances to speak with her in light of the bizarre circumstances. "Just how did you convince the chairman?"

"What? I just mentioned you'd want to have lunch in peace without all that crowding business, and he gave it the okay." Ritsuko shrugged, emphasizing her nonchalance and contrasting considerably with the added urgency unmistakable in the intonation of Kusakabe's questions. "You give me too much credit."

A single glance behind him, towards the rows of seats occupied by his peers eating lunch was enough to prove that claim otherwise in his perspective, and he was unable to contain a grimace. "This is much more crucial than you'd think," Kusakabe insisted while placing a hand on the counter reflexively, conveying the intensity of his argument. "You suggested the chairman to let the committee's guard lower for a lunch break on the cafeteria."

"You had lunch breaks before, anyway," Ritsuko loosely uttered with a quick wave of her hand, gloved now with plastic rather than rubber. "What's the difference?" It was a valid point, but Kusakabe could not afford the time to concede after realizing that the cafeteria lady was somehow aware of the committee's schedules despite the short time she had come to know them.

Naturally, there was only one person she could have talked to in order to uncover that information, though Kusakabe wished he had any means to deny it. The surprise caught up to his expression, his eyes lightly widened and the hand on the counter twitching before being quickly retracted. "You weren't the one who introduced the idea of turns in the patrol while the lunch break goes on, were you?" he asked in a slow manner, as if to give Ritsuko more time to think over the answer; and his own mind to process the thought of someone introducing ideas to Hibari.

"Of course I was," Ritsuko easily responded, smile now wide with underlying contentment that only aggravated the implications of the response for Kusakabe. "Sweetens the deal, doesn't it? You all get lunch, I get more practice with Hibari's food requests and Hibari gets a better-protected school. I don't see what's so strange about that."

Yet again, it was a valid point, but Kusakabe offered another glance behind him. Some of his colleagues were watching with curiosity evident in their gazes, or even just because the vice-chairman had yet to even take a tray of food. Regardless, it was impossible to concede, and his mind was already overwhelmed by prospect of an elderly woman capable of even persuading Hibari, so Kusakabe could only mutter as a last resort: "I thought you didn't approve of the Disciplinary Committee..."

"You work with what you're given," Ritsuko said, "and my job's giving out food. As long as your chairman doesn't fire me, I'll accept just about anything." Thankfully, the easygoing stance she assumed at least conveyed a sense of honesty to her words, and she had finally voiced something that he could accept for its simple compliance with the authority of the chairman, warranting some form of relief from Kusakabe's piling stress.

He sighed as his only way to vent that, and crossed his arms. "It's at least good that you're contributing to the committee's performance," he calmly noted before locking eyes with the harmless-seeming cafeteria lady, "but you won't be forgiven if you try anything on the chairman. This is a warning."

"Now, boys like you don't need to be such worrywarts," she admonished without a single change to her expression and demeanour, smiling through the half-hearted glare as if able to understand its lacking malice or simply uncaring of its existence to begin with. "You chose to follow Hibari's orders, didn't you? And he's the one who decided on everything. You almost make it sound like I'm some shady, scamming old lady." She snickered at the thought, only intensifying the mental image Kusakabe was forced to shake his head to erase.

"Well, as long as you understand your own position here," Kusakabe vacantly concluded, uncertain if he had truly been able to assert himself in any fashion towards Ritsuko whose calm gaze did not bely composure the same way his did, but instead a nigh impenetrable nonchalance. She was amused enough for reasons his past self could not hope to understand, but he could not find himself responding in kind, so he resorted to simple formalities: "Anyway, I suppose I should be thanking you. The chairman has been in a good mood lately."

"Sure, you're welcome," Ritsuko off-handedly answered, swatting aside the politeness like a fly pestering her. Did she really realize she was facing the Disciplinary Committee, or was Hibari the only one she considered worth her caution? "Also, Hibari told me I needed to consult you with the list of ingredients you're supposed to buy."

Before his mind could dwell on whether he was being underestimated or not, or whether he somehow was not so intimidating after all despite his comparatively large constitution, Kusakabe was assailed by the topic the old lady had introduced, and the question slipped from his mouth ungracefully: "Ingredients...?"

"Let me guess: he didn't tell you a thing?"

"He did say I would get busy after lunch, if anything," Kusakabe weakly defended to save face, both his own and Hibari's, but Ritsuko frowned in slight disapproval regardless, much to his inner dismay.

"Hibari wants a complete change in the menu," she dryly explained, "Says this one doesn't fit his 'ideals' and whanot, and I'm not one to turn down free high-quality products to work with."

"Right..." Along with that mutter from Kusakabe was the sounds of a tray being placed over the counter and clinking plates. Kusakabe blinked as he processed the pork in front of him, only indirectly related to the discussion. He was certain Hibari had always preferred beef, but she either did not have it on hand or was simply unaware; whichever boosted his peace of mind.

"Just eat for now." Ritsuko practically shooed him away with a shaking hand after uttering that, and her eyes had narrowed as if judgingly for every second he was not moving to take the tray. "I'll talk to you about that afterwards." Only after that assertion did Kusakabe reach out for it, nodding in acknowledgement of it before turning around, eyes travelling the surroundings for a vacant seat. Ritsuko had perhaps genuinely listened to Kusakabe when he had briefly mentioned the cafeteria being an ideal location for the committee, and attempted to help in that regard. He had thought about it now, of all times, when his pride no longer allowed him to tell her or show any form of true gratitude.

Kusakabe figured to look past that, however, so as to focus on the fact that he had been assured more possibilities to talk with Ritsuko, an individual who was far too unpredictable and cunning to simply be left to her devices without further investigation. Without simple curiosity driving his intentions, he could consider his goal as something for the committee rather than himself. As such, he could think of how to try to ask her questions or what to ask at all with a lighter weight on his consciousness, and he did so in the duration of his lunch hours, looking forward to the time he would have his chance.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

The week after passed quickly, much to Kusakabe's dismay. He had attained a chance to finally speak to Ritsuko about the chairman due to Hibari's orders to update the menu, and it was to go wasted in the midst of his inner apprehension. Why had he felt nervous about the matter to begin with? Kusakabe himself was unsure of how to answer that question, since he clearly was only hoping to speak with Ritsuko for the sake of the committee, thus validating his actions by default. However, despite having even volunteered to be the one aiding her in ordering and transporting the ingredients in any of his colleagues' stead, his mouth simply would not open on the topic of the chairman, or any at all.

Rather, Kusakabe and Ritsuuko walked the long path from outside the school to the cafeteria in silence, with Kusakabe carrying a sack of potatoes, glancing her way every other second without conversely noticing the old lady calling out to him after having stared in curiosity. "Earth to Kusakabe," she uttered likely after figuring he was that distracted, and he was; he flinched, almost releasing his hold on the sack. "Easy there, now. Something on your mind?"

"Oh, uh..." Kusakabe cleared his throat and averted his gaze, noting the trees as a relatively harmless distraction to the awkwardness of being caught off-guard, for once. It should have been easy to answer the question with an assertive and collected no, but the prospect of being able to bring up the topics of his interest muddled his conclusions, so he remained painfully indecisive as he grimaced bitterly.

"You've always seemed a little out of it so I thought it was your personality, but you do act all proper around your men," Ritsuko commented in a surprisingly absent-minded fashion, as if neutral to the facts she was presenting or simply that deep in thought, but Kusakabe did not bet on the latter. "I'm starting to think you have some kind of problem." Kusakabe cast his gaze downwards, the sack obstructing his view of the ground.

"It's not a problem," Kusakabe cooly said, leaving it at that because he did not feel as though justifying himself could make him seem more genuine. The concern for the matter itself already served as further justification for Kusakabe not to meet Ritsuko's eyes, as his confusion as to why he would even find himself troubled by official business at all increased tenfold.

Conversely, Ritsuko took a moment to ponder, a moment of crushing silence in which Kusakabe could hear little more than his thoughts urging him to speak. "Not a problem, huh? Well, just make sure that something doesn't trouble you or anyone, whatever it is." Part of Kusakabe was imagining the shrug Ritsuko would have displayed if he were looking at her, as the tone of her slowly uttered words was similarly insipid and weary in her shadow of a concern. She seemed to care enough to mention the topic, at the very least, and she opened the backdoor to the school building in silence, holding it open for Kusakabe after stepping inside herself. He managed to see her then, much without a choice, and after she endeavoured to close the door behind him, Kusakabe attempted to glance to the side nonchalantly guessing when she would be beside him again.

"... What do you think of the chairman, by the way?" he asked after the moments of preparation that led him to that single point, and he was not yet so sure he regretted his conviction or not. It was all up to Ritsuko in the end, and she was still quiet to the point Kusakabe wondered if she had heard Kusakabe at all, or if she was just pondering on the question.

"Huh? That's sudden," she remarked, and Kusakabe thought it best to conclude she was simply caught off-guard. "But, let's see..." Another moment passed in excrutiating silence, as the weight of any implications she could pick up on while thinking added to his growing apprehension, reflected subtly in his lightly more hunched position, like the weight of the sack he had so easily been carrying had now given him difficulty. "He's a Nami-Middle student and he's a little out there. Not much else to say."

Kusakabe blinked, processing the one alternate response he had never even once considered in his storm of hypothetical scenarios, a lapse in his supposedly sound judgment. "Not much else to say...?" he repeated in awe. "This is the chairman we're talking about."

"Sure, he's taking over the school on top of being an antisocial delinquent, but that's nothing I have to mull over, is it?" Ritsuko loosely retorted more swiftly than before, further emphasizing her certainty.

"You're..." Kusakabe could not help finally turning her way, staring into her eyes, tiny from squinting in confusion. Somehow, it was Ritsuko who appeared not to see the reason in Kusakabe's statement, and she expressed that with great clarity, unafraid of whatever reaction Kusakabe could take. Unsure of whether to be frustrated or shocked, Kusakabe scowled, and wearily noted his eyebrow twitching simply reconsidering Ritsuko's affirmation of Hibari being nothing more than 'an antisocial delinquent'. "Definitely something else," he uttered in a strained fashion, unable to even pinpoint the right word to classify her carelessness and resenting himself in the process of noticing that. Likely as a way to vent, Kusakabe pointedly glared at Ritsuko, straightening himself as he pushed the sack to a more favourable position over his elbows, his hands grasping it from behind. "And I would appreciate it if you didn't look down on the chairman. There are consequences for disrespect to the committee."

Somehow, Ritsuko reacted to the covert threat with a smile, which slowly surfaced the more she pondered on it. "Well, your chairman hasn't been complaining," she said, "and it isn't like I'm being any different around you. Besides, you're the only one who's thinking I'm looking down on Hibari."

"How do you see him, then?"

"He's a student," Ritsuko affirmed, "and that's as good a position as any."

"You see the chairman as any other student, and you think this isn't looking down on him?" Kusakabe insisted, grasping the sack tighter subconsciously in his inner frustration, seeing Ritsuko lacking any sort of hesitation regardless of his opposition to her points.

"Isn't he a student? You shouldn't think too hard about these things, Kusakabe," Ritsuko stated yet again without faltering, "Hibari certainly isn't." She shrugged, turning away from Kusakabe almost as if the topic had been over for her despite Kusakabe's lack of any signs alluding to a conclusion.

"... The chairman isn't 'just' a student," Kusakabe managed to mutter in his momentary confusion and displeasure, trying to hope he was not simply being underestimated.

"And so aren't you," Ritsuko retorted, her eyes still set on the horizon rather than Kusakabe himself.

"What?"

"You're Tetsuya Kusakabe and you're carrying that sack for me."

Kusakabe continued staring at Ritsuko, scrutinizing her expression in hopes that small smile of hers could transmit the shady intentions he practically wanted to associate with her and her strange phrasing. However, though he tried, Kusakabe saw only a genuine shimmer in the conviction her gaze displayed, particularly as she quickened her pace slightly for the door to the cafeteria close by, her speed not enough for Kusakabe to constitute it as her attempt to escape him. Bitterly, if only because he could not find it in himself to snap in fury that he did not possess, he claimed, "I understand you even less now."

"Me? I'm just some old lady," Ritsuko said almost too innocently for Kusakabe's peace of mind as she opened the door and proceeded to stay beyond it again, expecting Kusakabe to enter. "If you're bothering with understanding anybody, try your chairman and not somebody who'll die soon." She was frowning now, as if confronting the bitter truth in her own words, but Kusakabe was led to think further of his purpose when she did point him in that direction.

"The chairman, huh..." Talking with Hibari would be like treading on thin ice; nothing like trying to speak to an enigmatic cafeteria lady.

He was certain she was not aware of the difference, or of his goals, and was far from expecting her to ask in her truthful display of curiosity: "Didn't you choose to follow him? Then why bother with me?"

"It's precisely because I follow the chairman that I'm **—** " As such, he could only stop himself from the reflexively retort when he realized he was perhaps saying too much. He averted his gaze from Ritsuko as if guilty, and grimaced. "Well..."

"You got that far," she noted dryly, "Might as well spill it out if it makes you feel any better." His hopes of avoiding the topic fell short on that single statement, and not because he could not have simply turned Ritsuko down. Kusakabe entered the kitchen area from the door opened by her, and sighed wondering if he was either cowardly or careless when it came to making his decisions. In the end, he figured, he was instead self-indulgent, because part of him had always wanted to vent in some way.

"... You've only met him for such a short time," Kusakabe admitted, and knew he would be unable to hold back the urge any longer, "and you already seem to have a grasp on how to interact with him. If it were anyone else, it could have been a simple stroke of luck, but there is no such thing when it comes to the chairman, and you've only proven you can keep up with him, somehow. Just how do you do this?" The genuine question was not immediately met with an answer, especially as Ritsuko was waiting for Kusakabe to place the sack in a small pantry area that would supposedly suffer a few renovations as well for space. Even after that, she did not speak, seeing herself out of the kitchen area in silence while Kusakabe followed in the midst of his heavy anticipation.

Seeing her similarly grimace, she slowly opened her mouth for an answer: "Experience, I suppose."

"Experience? You mean you've dealt with someone like the chairman before?" Kusakabe asked with widened eyes, incredulous from the information he processed and the considerable displeasure veiled in her voice, unlike all before. Even with that reaction from Kusakabe, Ritsuko was staring off to the end of the hallway, perhaps beyond it in her thoughts, and Kusakabe's eyebrows creased as he noted the reccurring slowness of the cafeteria lady.

"I haven't dealt with delinquents, no," she vacantly said, calmly shaking her head. "I just had the opportunity to make a lot of spur-of-the-moment decisions, so I don't get as hung up on danger and whatnot."

"Even then, you'd at least become nervous," Kusakabe pressed, "You act almost apathetic before the chairman. You don't fear him in the slightest."

Silence settled between the two when Kusakabe's insistence was forced to a halt by the sight of Ritsuko staring at him again, squinting as if deep in thought solving an enigma. She sighed half a moment later, seemingly troubled, only to bitterly comment, "So this was your problem, huh?" She crossed her arms, now looking towards the floor with a bitter frown. "Why I don't fear Hibari?"

"It's not just that," Kusakabe answered quickly, feeling threatened by the straightforward conclusion despite how true it happened to be. "You seem to practically know how to deal with him. Even on the first time you saw him..." His words trailed along aimlessly, resulting then in an abrupt halt to a train of thought he himself had only now noticed and inwardly questioned for the shame he was feeling. He had ultimately failed to deny that he had a problem to begin with, and grimaced in light of his realizations, along with the faint recollection of the very first time he had seen the cafeteria lady.

"I just connected the dots," Ritsuko explained with simplicity contradicting Kusakabe's current thoughts, "You and Hibari were in synch, you looked dangerous and he was the leader, making him more dangerous than you by default. Best way to stop you is to have the leader make you and there's no better method than negociation. So, I did just that. This isn't rocket science, Kusakabe." Considering he himself could not muster her supposedly uncomplicated perspective, it might as well have been, or so he suppressed the urge to say for its implied shortcoming.

He saw her shrug, dismissive and perhaps uncaring of the topic, but Kusakabe could not then help argue, "It isn't something you'd normally think of: if you didn't know of the chairman, you couldn't be sure if we were dangerous or simple delinquents you could call the faculty over. You didn't do this, however. You broke the rules for the chairman, thinking that would be the best course of action even despite the fact he was from the Disciplinary Committee. How did you know that would persuade him, or that you even had to persuade him for your safety at all?" Despite the change of scenery inherent of leaving through the backdoor, Kusakabe's gaze was locked onto Ritsuko's, and she was just as focused on him, as if part of her had not been so neutral after all.

Both appeared convicted enough that a stalemate could originate from the conversation, simply staring each other's way for the moment, but Ritsuko knew better than not to speak against Kusakabe's statements. She huffed, almost as if in mock indignation. "Look, here: there's no secret to it," she plainly responded, "I lived a lot, and I had to go through a lot, too. Still, if your problem is how best to deal with Hibari, you should know that better than I do as the vice-chairman."

With an unceremonious blink, Kusakabe processed the assumption, and swallowed it in a strained fashion considering his motivations, wondering even if Ritsuko had meant to strike at his insecurities. His expression had similarly shifted dramatically, scrunched up from confusion that Kusakabe did not feel up to addressing. Instead, he realized something, and voiced it calmly in comparison to his state of mind: "You didn't answer my question."

Ritsuko squinted, her eyebrows furrowed to the point one could even make out the slightest hint of anger if only due to her naturally stern features illustrating it as such. Regardless, there was a clear sour intent in her expression, accompanied by the faint shadow of a scowl, more of melancholy than anything else. She continued to lock eyes with Kusakabe in that bitter silence, her eyes barely visible in their narrowed position until she wearily muttered, "There's nothing good to take from me and how I deal with things. If anything, don't try getting like me, would you?"

"And what does that mean?"

"It means you're better off liking your own life," she quickly and easily said, "and cherishing it like any normal person." Only after cleanly stating her point against Kusakabe's insistence did Ritsuko turn away from him to look towards the horizon yet again, and Kusakabe was reluctant to speak then of all times, despite the vague nature of her reasoning. "Anyway, don't go fussing over things too much, Kusakabe. It won't help you in the long run." The warning came across as a genuine piece of advice simultaneously to its original wary tone, marking also a boundary Kusakabe seemingly could not cross in the conversation. Though he was not sure of it, Kusakabe found that the finer details of her methods in interacting with Hibari stemmed from a more personal background, against his expectations.

Kusakabe could not bring himself to oppose Ritsuko's warning, as such, and figured he would waste his last chance to properly speak to her, suppressing the curiosity that remained gnawing at his mind. Just what influenced her neutrality? Why was she the way she was at all? Before he knew it, the problem in and of itself did not simply pertain the chairman.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Regardless, it was yet again Kusakabe who volunteered to help Ritsuko the first Thursday of the Summer vacation, in which none of the cafeteria staff would attend barring Ritsuko herself. Kusakabe did not exactly know whose idea it was, but he suspected Ritsuko had been the one to suggest it as an excuse to continue to work, if only because Hibari himself would simply leave the matter to the committee rather than think of it himself, demanding a meal in accordance to his whims. Kusakabe and the rest of the members were, as such, found simultaneously stopping by the school every other day of the vacation and would head for the cafeteria an hour after Hibari, noticing the workload the frail elderly woman would undertake needlessly. Upon one member's request, Kusakabe walked for the kitchen area after lunch, seeing in himself the responsibility to take the members' burdens, but he was just as well thinking further of the last words he had heard from Ritsuko.

Hard though it was to admit, Kusakabe would glance her way every so often while tending to the dishes, as if hoping she would say something; anything related to his current doubts. He cursed his own curiosity, knowing it was far from his duty to care if the matter was personal to Ritsuko and not the committee. At that point, he was simply fascinated; by something other than the chairman. He scowled in light of his uncertainty, wondering if he was starting to fail Hibari with such thoughts, despite the fact that it was Hibari who enabled his curiosity on the old lady's thought process. How did she see people? Part of him felt as though knowing would be worth his time, but another saw only shame in the interest. "You'd think the vice-chairman would have less free time on his hands than this," Ritsuko remarked, "helping an old lady with the dishes and all that."

Kusakabe displayed the slightest traces of his distraction simply by blinking, but he was unable to immediately respond, instead taking a few seconds to even process the remark. Then, he set his gaze on his work, if only to be able to focus on keeping his composure. "It doesn't take as much time as you make it out to," Kusakabe calmly retorted, "and this is repayment for your information and help. The Disciplinary Committee is very particular about debts." Admittedly enough, the characteristic was enforced by no rule and the member who even introduced the idea was only concerned for the elderly lady's health, but Kusakabe saw himself unable to hold confidence in his rhetoric without the slightest lie. Recalling the previous times they had conversed, Kusakabe could at least believe Ritsuko would not find an additional rule so similar to the chairman's attitude strange, but his caution did not fade, instead augmenting with the silence as he glanced Ritsuko's way.

"I can sure see that from your chairman," she said, "Keeps asking me what I want." While seemingly bitter, Kusakabe could only see tired neutrality from her frown, one he still could not help but wonder if it was more than it showed, or a genuine form of disrespect. Her eyes were on the dishes at hand, far from focused, reflecting more vacant thought than perhaps even Kusakabe's, but lacking in the slightest amount of stress. Her shoulders drooped as though in demotivation, and her movements were as slow as her own words. "As long as I'm here, I don't want anything, so it's just a waste, really."

The explanation fell on deaf ears to Kusakabe, who considered that nothing but an exaggeration. Even if it happened not to be, it would then have an ulterior motive Kusakabe could not fathom by himself; something even the chairman could have trouble uncovering. "You should just accept his goodwill regardless," Kusakabe said, "You only frustrate him if you don't let him repay you." While mostly beneficial to the committee, the amount of times Ritsuko would introduce new ideas and lend Hibari to request her continuous aid would simultaneously result in times Hibari would leave the cafeteria already reaching for his weapons, if only because the only way to release the frustration of an unsolvable problem was to distract himself with something else. That 'something else' could then happen to be passing members of the committee, but it could just as well be Ritsuko herself in the eventuality she finally angered Hibari, both scenarios Kusakabe did not personally want to see and wondered if Ritsuko had ever pondered on.

"And you think he'll feel any better if I name something at random?" she dryly questioned, the argument only lacking in its sharp nature due to Ritsuko's own lack of investment in making it so, or perhaps even because the matter was pure fact to her; unquestionable enough that she would not feel for it. "He'll just think I'm mocking him and get more angry." The mental image immediately surged in Kusakabe's mind for its plausibility, and he grimaced in light of his own accuracy picturing the sheer coldness belying the chairman's relentless anger, enough to send a chill down his spine despite not correlating with the present reality. That was thankfully something he successfully hid from the absent-minded cafeteria lady, though he tensed in concern for the hypothesis, thinking she could simply be pretending not to notice under her weary guise.

It was a pointless thought in retrospect, but the Kusakabe of the past saw it fit to feel defeated from an argument that counted little as any sort of competition and in spite of that omit the shame under a cool frown. "Even so, you'd best find out something to ask for. You shouldn't trouble the chairman." However, Kusakabe's low, nearly sour voice conveyed enough that a less than perceptive individual could trace the reason for his roundabout conclusion on the matter, ultimately depending on reiterating the problem itself rather than offering a solution. He noted the shortcoming and dismissed it internally for what he petulantly named the truth, and the intensity of the thought was conveyed only through his lightly narrowed glare.

None of which the adult in Kusakabe's presence deigned to verify or react to, instead nonchalantly speaking: "He's the one who's going out of his way to be troubled. Just like you with these dishes." She placed one to the side, among the pile Kusakabe was wiping with a small cloth slightly torn at the edges, worn and old with the years of exertion, but effective enough to see continuous use. Then, she finally shot him a look, one wry with judgments of character. "And Hibari." It was brief, and Ritsuko returned to the sight of the remaining plates in front of her afterwards, but Kusakabe could not help but grip the cloth tighter as he sternly straightened his stance so as to not show his bitter confusion.

"Do you truly have nothing you want?" Kusakabe asked with added insistence as his only evidence of the underlying offense taken from her implications, which he hardly bothered to ponder more alternatives for other than her disfavoured opinion on his supposed overthinking. Ritsuko was already shrugging reflexively, her dismissal blatant but equally as jaded as her general attitude, leading Kusakabe to assume she had hardly thought of the matter.

"Why would I lie? Isn't Hibari filthy rich?" The retort was almost telling of the assumption as far as he was concerned, and the materialistic, perhaps opportunistic perspective Ritsuko was introducing had Kusakabe blink in surprise momentarily. Using the chairman for his monetary status was mentioned as if an entirely casual prospect to offer Hibari without apprehension, conflicting wildly with his own iteration of the scenario, outrageous by its very nature.

Kusakabe shook his head, hoping to yet again erase that cold gaze of subtle fury from the chairman off of his mind, or even the thought of Ritsuko resorting to the simple connotation to begin with. "That's beside the point," he quickly countered, "If you don't have anything you want, it doesn't make sense you would be able to dedicate yourself to the cafeteria." He had not afforded himself even the time to process his own words as his uttered, and was left pondering on his instinct doubt after the act. Kusakabe had pressed Ritsuko for an answer with the argument, and perhaps had a fundament to his curiosity beyond the emotion itself; something that could cause him to keep getting involved with random jobs simply to talk to Ritsuko. One of such fundaments, he realized, were the ulterior motives in her demeanour, if she held any at all. His expression had softened as a result of his doubt lacking resentment, truly wondering what could possibly birth the attachment she had to the cafeteria that warranted her offers to work more often without reward.

Ritsuko's movements halted for the fewest of seconds, before she had shifted her gaze to Kusakabe. Even so, her hands had stopped their motions, and she locked eyes with Kusakabe as if to warrant his full attention, though her expression remained a cynical sort of frown, far from the purity of displeasure. "Well, Kusakabe," she calmly and lowly drawled, "Is there something attached to your loyalty to Hibari?" The question was heavy enough for his mind to finally experience complete silence, and focus entirely on the topic rather than whatever hypothesis struck at him pertaining the cafeteria lady. Kusakabe did not even need to ponder, noting only the flashing recollections of a faraway past in which Hibari's inspiring figure was engraved dominating all others, forever to earn his respect.

After half a moment of unadulterated nostalgia, Kusakabe responded, "The chairman gave me and the others a purpose. That's all I'd ever wanted, back then."

Ritsuko stared at Kusakabe in serenity befitting her age, but in that case alone, Kusakabe did not feel the need to infer intentions from it; from a truth that could never be denied. The past was a meaningless one if not for the chairman, but it was for the present that he lived, and the now that constituted the committee. He could brace himself for any reaction, but he received instead a smile from Ritsuko, even if not one expressing pure joy. Pride, and a hint of condescension, if only because of her doubt on the matter guided that expression, and caused her to utter, "See, now; it's not so strange having my purpose lie in the school cafeteria."

The concept of purpose reverberated in his mind, bringing his thoughts back to a tangible topic that sparked his curiosity and had originated the very situation. Unlike Kusakabe, whose statements were appropriately dramatic, Ritsuko worded her purpose as simply as the blowing of the wind, and had almost perfectly hid her lack of a direct correlation with Kusakabe's reasoning. While it truthfully was not so difficult guessing that she found meaning in the cafeteria, Kusakabe could still wonder, and voice out loud, "Is that what you'd always wanted, as well?"

He expected it from her slow nature, but Ritsuko did not immediately respond. Her smile remained thinly in place, but her eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. Kusakabe could almost feel her tiny eyes trying to peer at his thoughts, as if finally giving importance to his words. "Aren't you the daring sort," she ultimately commented, "trying to pry my life story out of me." The amusement laced in the remark seemed hollow, half-hearted in comparison to the straightforward accusation, though neutral in its tone. He could not reliably discern if she held disapproval for his curiosity, or simply felt the need to note its existence; and that Kusakabe was supposedly making an effort to quench it.

He wanted to deny that the first second he thought of it, but Kusakabe knew by now even Ritsuko was not playing along his excuses. Most of all, Kusakabe reminded himself of the last time he resolved not to talk to the cafeteria lady, a promise unfulfilled when he found the chance. Not even he could exactly understand why, but the connection was palpable to him, and he knew that he had something to learn. He grimaced in face of the turmoil in his train of thought and Ritsuko's words, which he somberly responded with, "It's not any of my business, and I know that."

"You also know it's not worth bothering with me," Ritsuko added with quickness unbecoming of her usual speech, unexpected in its almost condescending simplicity.

"But I don't know about _that,_ for one," Kusakabe countered thoughtlessly in face of his own judgment being suddenly put to question, even if he himself did the same. He had puffed his chest up in easy, competitive pride similarly without realizing it, and when he did, along with the slip-up yet again occured in Ritsuko's presence, Kusakabe sighed. "Admittedly enough... I just can't help feeling curious."

"Curious, huh?" Ritsuko uttered with underlying doubt.

"Rather, I find myself thinking that you really aren't just any normal person," Kusakabe iterated as a correction adding to the previous response, but even that was safe and vague in comparison to the storm of threads of thought when it came to his own motives. There was a definite truth in his statement, as he saw Ritsuko was nigh undiscernible from his perspective and almost frustratingly so. However, at the same time, he found himself drawn to the dutiful mindset belying her apathy, and whatever caused her to accomplish what she did in the first place. He could never say it directly, as not even he could confirm it in the midst of emotionality that could even originate from tender age, but Kusakabe, at the very least, knew that he did want to speak to her, and that he did want to know more, despite Ritsuko's own accounts.

"You'll regret it," she lowly warned, finally wearing another weary, cynical frown in light of the hope projected in Kusakabe's opinion, "bothering with someone like me. People are meant to bother with the young, not the old."

"Anyone who is involved with the chairman is a concern of mine if not ordered otherwise," Kusakabe argued half-heartedly as the introduction to anything that could then justify the curiosity he was not meant to have, but he found himself without the time to continue the reasoning.

"Now, Kusakabe," Ritsuko interjected without hesitation, "You shouldn't hide behind the committee." It was perhaps one of the first sharp assertions he had witnessed from Ritsuko, normally so nonchalant. His initial attempt at a collected expression and gaze had failed from the surprise, and Kusakabe was blinking in confusion. "Face me properly the next time around, and I might just let you waste some time on my personal business."

"What?" However, the entirely undoubtable allegations to his character had Kusakabe instantly scowl upon processing them, and their extreme extent. "And what right do you have to say something like that...?" he retorted with a coldness not spurred from composure, but quiet fury suppressed only because he was in the presence of an elder, and not someone he could consider 'his own size'. Kusakabe towered over the cafeteria lady easily, and she was likely aware of the threat that could be present in the resentment of one of the strongest delinquents in school, second only to the chairman himself, but Ritsuko only looked away from Kusakabe, directing her gaze to the dishes. It was almost as if they were more worthy of her sight than Kusakabe, and his fists clenched in further anger, recalling the implication of cowardice from one obligated to constantly follow and support its antithesis.

"It's the least I could ask out of somebody who's asking me not to hide behind the cafeteria," Ritsuko responded with her usual dry tone, but Kusakabe froze under the weight of the answer. She was still piling up plates as she diligently worked, and Kusakabe was far from catching up from his own ulterior motives, but even that added to the shock of her admission. He was rendered silent then, and he finally turned towards the dishes himself, if only to avoid any further accusations that rang true for Kusakabe in actuality, as he knew he could not deny them when Ritsuko had so willingly shared her own. As another cause for his curiosity, Kusakabe noted her reserved nature, and did not struggle conciliating that with her dedication to the cafeteria; enough that it would have her avoid her own business. It was a cause that preceded her individuality, and the matter resonated enough that with the passing moments, a grimacing Kusakabe knew only reluctant respect for Ritsuko. He did want to talk to her for a reason, after all, whatever it was. "Think of it as the next step. I might not want anything, but that doesn't mean I have no regard for things. If you're doing something you'll regret, you'll do it with some proper backbone."

Kusakabe noted those following words from Ritsuko when he was done with his task, along with his own thoughts, and left the cafeteria in silence.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Regardless, he knew he was bound to return, and did not make a mental effort to hide it at that point. The very next day, Kusakabe had dismissed the committee members with him, and stepped for the counter of the cafeteria in a resolute, even if subtle stride. Ritsuko had her back faced from said counter as she assumed no other committee members would make their way to the cafeteria, and she had not been particularly attentive to their interactions. "Ma'am," Kusakabe called with assertivity needed in his position as vice-chairman, considering that only a single part of the 'backbone' Ritsuko wanted him to hold. For the sake of fairness, it was with confidence that he would make requests, and he only hoped the chairman was neutral to the manner. As far as he knew, one person did not count as crowding, but part of him added lingering apprehension to the very idea of exposing his straightforward intent rather than simply keeping to his own duties and leaving the matter behind.

He could not turn back time, however, so he carefully watched Ritsuko stop, and slowly turn around. She stood for a few seconds staring Kusakabe's way, only to walk for the counter with a wry smile that truly described her general stance, giving none the indication that any sort of conversation occurred the day before. Though, it could have only been Kusakabe who considered it mildly important or impactful; that was but one of the mysteries of Ritsuko's attitude. "Helping with the dishes again, now?" The question was similarly innocent enough to have Kusakabe wonder if she was simply pretending she had not offered to speak if Kusakabe did so himself, and attributed some doubt to his thoughts. She had perhaps assumed he never would have been able to step up to her words, a notion he did fear in his trek to the cafeteria.

He feared it still, and took a deep breath to calm that prospect. His straight-laced stance gave little clues as to his apprehension, but it was starting to fade knowing he was currently in front of Ritsuko, and that he had already repeated his bout of cowardice time and time again, much to his own shame. That time, he would not repeat the mistake of avoiding such incompetence, he noted to motivate himself. His gaze conveying nothing but resolve, he finally claimed, "I want to talk to you." It was the most he could muster, and that was already awkward enough as a request. His use lay in the committee, and he certainly was not supposed to be seen as someone who would come to need conversation. He did not truthfully, did he? He _wanted to,_ due to his own interest. Yet again, a strange thought, and now an amusingly weak-willed one in hindsight.

Ritsuko's smile faded after a moment, and she glanced towards the side, towards the window to the wall of the cafeteria. The Sun was not quite as high in the sky as it would have been on normal lunch hours, reserved for Hibari on vacation days for the simple reason that he had no need to avoid crowds in those circumstances. Regardless, she was likely gazing for the sky to ponder in her very first moment of hesitation. "And here I was thinking you'd change your mind and go hang out with your funky crew," she wearily said, as if resigned, "It's not like you'll get anything out of talking to me."

"That's not decided," Kusakabe retorted, his few words nigh irrefutable, for once. He knew better than to make up excuses in face of the elderly lady who would completely see through them, but he simultaneously kept the frustration of Ritsuko's doubt in him because his argument was a genuine reflection of his opinion. It was why he could grimace as if offended in her stead and find himself justified in the fact, and not waver in the slightest looking straight at Ritsuko. Contrary to her, he thought that conversation could amount to something. He _sensed so,_ as ridiculous as he himself considered it to be.

Ritsuko, on the other hand, sighed after shifting her blank gaze back to Kusakabe. "Right, what was it again? My purpose?" she offered apathetically, as if even keeping track of Kusakabe's intentions was already troublesome, even pointless.

"It can be anything, as far as I'm concerned." The clean and straightforward response drifted naturally from outside his mind, even despite carrying with it a more compromising confession than the others before it; that he did not particularly have a goal or plan in listening to Ritsuko. At least, not one he was inherently focusing on. Kusakabe did not notice it then, and was instead busying himself watching the cafeteria lady stepping away from the counter and finally displaying the slightest hints of a grimace similar to Kusakabe's own.

"Just get in here already so we can get it over with," Ritsuko sputtered gracelessly while dismissively motioning to the door in the corner. She walked to the side and became hardly visible through the counter, so Kusakabe took it as his cue to enter the kitchen area, knowing her impatience was not entirely made up of resentment. Rather, Kusakabe had likely bested her for the very first time, and Ritsuko deigned to be displeased at the fact as it opposed her own intentions. He opened the door, closed it behind him and relinquished the small smile he had formed in the process when spotting Ritsuko by the corner, near the storage area accompanying the kitchen. It was allegedly there Hibari was made to wait, sitting on a stool to the corner near shelves and a large freezer, though the freezer itself was recent, and one of the few debt repayments Hibari had managed out of the stubborn cafeteria lady. Ritsuko, however, was still standing, instead gesturing for Kusakabe to take a seat. Considering her age, Kusakabe could not help but eye Ritsuko simpathetically, hoping she could perhaps understand his peace of mind would be much more easily achieved if she sat down in his stead, but she crossed her arms, squinting as if threateningly.

The threat was naturally harmless coming from an old lady whose eyes were so small and beady they would shimmer innocently, especially when she was not even bothering to be seriously offended. Regardless, feeling as though he would simply be wasting time arguing with Ritsuko on it, Kusakabe reluctantly headed for that stool and sat down. He was almost her height in that position, a fact he noted briefly as he saw Ritsuko lean against the shelves; Kusakabe wondered if Hibari had seen something entirely like that back then. "I'm not like you, and that's a good thing." The softly-uttered statement halted Kusakabe's train of thought, and he blinked vacantly in regards to the meaning behind her words. "You wanted a purpose," Ritsuko somberly said, "I didn't even want that, at first. I just managed to get one because I promised somebody I wouldn't give it up." Kusakabe had not quite readied a reaction for a revelation of the sort, so he was unable to answer her, or even know if he was supposed to answer at all. As such, silence filled the room for a moment, one in which Ritsuko seemed to gather her own thoughts, and Kusakabe wondered what kind of human did not find the need for a meaning in life. "He was the first principal of the school."

The mention had been dropped quietly and subtly, as if weightless in its importance, a mere footnote to a grander story. Kusakabe frowned, imagining the distant past Ritsuko outlined haphazardly, her voice low enough he could barely hear her were he farther away. "What was he to you?" he asked to give the mental images tangible form, as he had more than known something about the school had attributed her dedication; the fact that the principal had been the responsible individual came across as no surprise to Kusakabe. Regardless, his voice was low with wariness from the boundaries he feared to be overstepping, especially in consideration of Ritsuko's nigh melancholy expression and blank gaze.

Such a gaze was cast downwards, and her hand hovered near her chin as she pondered, perhaps reminisced. Despite the firstly thoughtful tension piling up through her furrowed eyebrows, the seconds would then contribute to her relaxing stance, bleakly shrinking her already small form. She smiled, lowered her hand to just above her chest, and directed her sight back to Kusakabe, meaningless as it was since her eyes reflected little more than the artificial light of the room. "I'd give my life for him," she calmly responded, "no questions asked. If only he hadn't kicked the bucket beforehand..." She ultimately chuckled just as nonchalantly, a sound unpleasant not due to the raspy nature of Ritsuko's voice, but from its inherent bitterness. While she could have seen the situation as some sort of joke, perhaps to lighten her own mood, it was equally clear that the presented fact was exceedingly critical to her current attitude, even beyond the chilling moment. Ritsuko appeared to have noted Kusakabe's discomfort, perhaps because he could not help the grimace, and her eyes closed, her smile widening in a bout of more genuine satisfaction. "It's just how life works, see. No matter how much you cherish people, they'll disappear eventually. I've met some great people in my life: if it weren't for them, I'd be much worse off. And, now, it's the principal's legacy that's keeping me alive."

"His legacy..." Kusakabe pensively muttered, finding in the word more meaning than he himself could attribute to his current self. He stared at Ritsuko in moderate awe processing that; the added weight of age that could construct a legacy. His loyalty was deep as to be expected of his position as vice-chairman, but Hibari did not have something that Kusakabe needed to inherit, and the chairman certainly would never plan it as such, much less for the sake of someone's life. Thinking even of a reality in which the chairman position would be shouldered by Hibari's own request was entirely foreign, an alien notion he could not yet think about in his short life.

Ritsuko's eyes were open to the distance, beyond even Kusakabe despite facing his front, and she spoke vacantly: "That man was always moving forward and pulling me along with him." She crossed her arms as she continued to ponder in the midst of her words, which would become slower and slower with the passing time. "He taught me a very important lesson about life," she uttered with natural, absent-minded elegance, "it's only unfortunate I don't have what it takes to carry it through at this point."

"And..." Kusakabe had thought to immediately voice his thoughts, but he momentarily wondered if he was being too insistent. Even if she was smiling, was she truly feeling fine? Had she no more regrets or sadness? Or was she simply willing to bother with him despite that, regardless of her own allegations on wasting time? Kusakabe averted his gaze from Ritsuko, and swallowed his own hesitation in light of what had brought him to that point in the first place. "What was that?" he questioned in a composed fashion, though his voice was almost as low and quiet as Ritsuko's. He noted the undone dishes by the kitchen area, tasks which he was stalling, and apologetically frowned thinking of his own selfishness.

Ritsuko, however, had been able to more pointedly say, "Well, Kusakabe..." He expected a response, and glanced her way, though he was met with a more resolute gaze, and a smirk wry with hollow pride. "Do you know what a school represents?" The question struck as random to Kusakabe initially, so his eyes lingered on Ritsuko as if to await an explanation that did not come.

"It's a facility for learning," Kusakabe slowly answered in doubt of the far too simple response, reluctantly conveying hesitation he would normally hide if only so she could clarify the matter.

To his surprise, Ritsuko was quick in removing her back from the shelf, and letting her gentle smile wrinkle her features further before correcting, "It's the kind of place you shouldn't stay in forever. If there's any place brimming with life, it's a school. All the way up to graduation, school is there as a space for all youths to strive for life, make up dreams or dawdle over not having any before being hurled into society. In a place like this, it only takes delinquents like you to suck the life out of them, but it's otherwise a stepping stone into something greater, if only you come and go; at least, that's what _he_ 'd told me." Ritsuko shrugged as she stepped away from Kusakabe, though the direction she took indicated she did not plan on leaving. Instead, she was heading for the sink, likely to prepare to truthfully start working. "He always had more of a way with words than I did." She had muttered that dryly, but the amusement reflected in the smile Kusakabe was only briefly able to see seemed truthful enough that Kusakabe could not help but mimic it.

"... You must have really respected him," he commented vacantly, knowing it was hardly in his right to interject carelessly on the matter, before standing from the stool to follow Ritsuko. Though, if even Hibari was a mere student to her, Kusakabe could not help but wonder what kind of person the first principal happened to be. Perhaps he would come to know later due to his own actions, depending on the result of that very day, so he thought.

Ritsuko huffed in condescension for the empty remark, or even to dismiss her feelings on it, if she had reacted at all inwardly. By the time Kusakabe was lining up to her side, she was displaying the usual casual smile, even despite the situation and topic. "He was too good for me," she added as an answer of sorts, one Kusakabe had no expected to get from his words, "urging me to live and all of that. Still, I don't regret it one bit. There is a reason why a school exists, and I agreed to watch over it. The cafeteria's my burden now. Or, well, my purpose or whatever you call it. It's a long story, really..."

Just like that, Ritsuko had grabbed at a plate and spoke on of the cafeteria, the school, and even herself at points for the duration of the afternoon in which Kusakabe could be free to aid her. A full hour had been spent that way, certainly more time than necessary for the simple task, but Kusakabe was somehow able to leave that conversation with his head held high, his shoulders weightless and his mind slightly clearer of the doubts he used to possess. It was that simple, he noted.

However, the varying omissions and the imcomplete nature of the cafeteria lady's ramblings left a lot more questions to be answered, and while Ritsuko herself did not tell him he could come again and listen, Kusakabe was already resolute. He would continue to show himself, regardless of the excuses that could take him there naturally, because he had truly known that his own intuition on conversation was worth minding.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"I guess you could say I'm not exactly the normal sort," Ritsuko said, though with a shrug befitting of her lack of investment in her own past, which she would liberally tell Kusakabe about since the very first time he directly requested it. He had admittedly expected more struggle, but Ritsuko seemed instead dismissive, resigned to the idea and rather enjoying the heartless reminiscing, all for reasons Kusakabe had yet to understand. Rather, there was still much he did not really comprehend about Ritsuko's demeanour, but he had always known that, and sought to correct that. He sat yet again, two months past the first time, his expression collected enough that only the shimmer in his gaze could indicate his investment in the conversation. In truth, claims from Ritsuko to Hibari about the efficiency of her work on vacation days had Hibari attempt to pay her back again by getting a dish washer, so there was no longer a need for the committee members to relinquish free time to help her; Kusakabe had nothing to turn to in making his way to the cafeteria, essentially, and he had yet to ever report the matter to Hibari. "I used to be as pushy and fussy as any normal youth, and I always had my eye on Ietsuna and his funny business. It was something as stupid as love at first sight that had me jumping into any fire for him; it wasn't ever getting anywhere, but I didn't have a good head on my shoulders back in the day. Even though I was seeing him getting involved with all those suited men and keeping him hidden, making his subordinates lunch pretending I didn't know anything, even having to carry a gun around at some point **—** " Ritsuko happened to be slow enough to take notice of her own slip-ups midway into them, so she placed a hand delicately over her mouth as she carelessly blinked, displaying more embarrassment than she did fear or apprehension. "Oh, pretend I didn't say that, will you?"

The moment of unexpected surprise from the usually apathetic cafeteria lady warranted even Kusakabe to mirror her expression at first, only for a smile to reflexively surge as he truly thought on it. "Right," he loosely uttered before trying to erase that smile, but failing for an entire moment, lending a more crooked, apprehensive version playfully glared at by Ritsuko. He recalled the very topic she was going over, something as heavy as hiding suited men and carrying guns, the latter illegal in all possible forms for a mere civillian. While Kusakabe had always suspected she was not an ordinary person, it was only after truly considering the implications of her explanation, one that only surfaced after so much time that his smile was able to fade to a pensive frown, which was tugged at the edges uncomfortably the more seconds passed. "Though, could it be that your friend was part of the yakuza?" Even he saw little pride in wording that question as simply as he would any other, but it flowed out as such when he thought of it, and stared intently at Ritsuko to gauge her reaction.

"The yakuza?" However, Ritsuko used her nearby hand to yet again cover her mouth to muffle a wry chuckle, the very prospect amusing to warrant it despite the implications of the question. Her eyes then narrowed ever so slightly, and her lowering hand revealed the thinnest of smiles, contemplative in tone as she calmly answered, "Not them, no. But it's close enough, if anything." She locked eyes with Kusakabe all the same, her vacant expression intact and Kusakabe with little idea of what exactly could be on her mind. What he did know was that she would usually state matters of considerable importance under a more focused gaze, or at least ones she had put more thought to. "Judging from the way you weren't all that rattled, you probably know something about the underground, don't you?" Part of her dry demeanour seeped into the question, its neutrality more staggering than the one Kusakabe had explained. He could at least trust that Ritsuko would not be so caring of his anwer, even if he said yes.

"To some extent," Kusakabe answered regardless while averting his gaze, if only due to his desire to dismiss the matter entirely. Though he would sometimes still have to deal in such matter, and keep that knowledge to heart, Kusakabe scarcely enjoyed recalling it, or any other events revolving the topic. He grimaced facing that displeasure, and could see the chairman glaring him down for the preference were he in the room, another hypothesis he wanted to avoid.

"I stepped away from that long ago," she said, cutting through his reminiscing with her own, and Kusakabe could thankfully conclude Ritsuko was probably not going to linger on the yakuza or whatever else she had been a part of. "The principal and Ietsuna were also friends, you see. While I had my eye on Ietsuna, he was looking out for me. Not that I'd noticed at the time; I was too headstrong for that. I never did get to know how and why Ietsuna was involved with them, but I had a feeling that was his way of protecting me so it's nothing I wonder about now." Ritsuko shook her head in self-disapproval, creating seconds of tired silence in between her words. "Besides, he's been dead for a while; much earlier than even the principal, too. He must've had a good life: a lot of people came to his funeral, people I'd seen and tried to protect before, and vice versa; some of them complete strangers. It hit me harder back then how much I didn't know him at all. I hadn't seen much of him in years, and the moment I'd gotten back just to check on him far too late, he'd apparently had a whole family, kids and everything. I'd never felt so old in my life."

Seeing her smile so somber, Kusakabe hesitated momentarily, faced with feelings of grief he could not possibly understand, but wanted to simultaneously. In a desperate attempt to tactfully rekindle the topic, refraining from addressing any of her statements directly, he asked, "What of the principal?"

"Him, huh? He kept in touch with Ietsuna more often than I did," she said, "I'd basically cut ties with everyone when my parents died, and Ietsuna was too busy to visit me at that point. Because of that, I only had _him_ to rely on, and he never had any obligation to. It was before Ietsuna's death that the school was up; I think I even told this to Hibari." Ritsuko's unfocused gaze drifted to the area of the ceiling, distracted with her own thoughts, and Kusakabe stared at the in wonder. "The principal had a few other friends back then, and he'd always liked keeping things personal so he ended up calling on me, too. I still remember the time he was trying to persuade my sluggish self to take up the cafeteria duties, saying cooking was 'just about the only thing I ever do these days' like it was some kind of feature." The old woman faintly snickered along the supposed joke, leaving the transition in her glassy gaze to a more narrowed, tender one more sudden than it could have been. "It was also then he had me making that promise. What was it again, exactly...? 'If you see life in them, you're keeping your own.' Something like that? It sounded cheesy, that's for sure." Ritsuko then sighed, eyed Kusakabe almost as if out of curiosity, and Kusakabe himself blinked in return, wondering why exactly she had paused. He would have asked, but she was about to open her mouth as he thought that, so he let her say her piece, instead: "You really do listen, Kusakabe. Shouldn't people like you be caring more about actions than words?"

"That's just an assumption," Kusakabe immediately retorted, unbeknownst to the hint of indignation in the slightest way his eyebrows arched in conjunction with his grimace. He pointed to himself, noting instead his composed stance even sitting down to elegantly speak: "Just because I look like this, it doesn't mean I don't think. I wouldn't be useful as the vice-chairman if I couldn't."

Ritsuko, on the other hand, dismissed Kusakabe's defensive effort with a simple wave of her hand. "I'm just joking with you," she lightly said, quicker than usual, though she continued to face Kusakabe with a degree of thoughtfulness he could not discern. "If Hibari were every bit as considerate as you are, there probably wouldn't be that much uproar over his violence."

"That's also wrong," Kusakabe asserted, now figuring to respond to her gaze in kind. "Since it's only because the chairman was and continues to be here that I became this way."

"... What draws you into these conversations, really?"

"I want to know the reason why you are so fearless," Kusakabe said despite his hesitation, seeing the weary frown on the cafeteria lady's face. Whether she was troubled, displeased or simply confused, Kusakabe could not understand, but he had felt it wasteful not to appear straightforward, displaying only one out of many reasons he was there in the first place. There was more to be seen and known, and more to think about; particularly about the chairman, who Ritsuko did not seem to see eye to eye with Kusakabe. Simply recalling Ritsuko comparing him with Kusakabe as though Kusakabe happened to serve more of a purpose than Hibari himself warranted a glance to the side, one of dismissal for the mental image.

"Well, that's only obvious," Ritsuko said as she crossed her arms, blinking as if more doubtful of Kusakabe's own doubts than anything else. "I don't fear Hibari because I don't care about dying. It's nothing you need to take in for yourself."

Kusakabe gulped after processing the first thought that occurred to him, beyond the somber feeling inherent to reacting to apathy of that degree. It felt relevant to know more, but to what extent could that continue? He trusted the results, in the end, and voiced, "Why don't you care about dying, in the end?" What could cause such a feeling to begin with? The need for references haunted his mind, if only because Ritsuko would have something pertinent to say, something he had never before thought of, like always.

"I have a feeling you know that already," she drawled dryly as if demotivated, "without needing me to spell it out for you." Instead of any clarity, Kusakabe was met with the invitation to more thought; more than he already had given on the matter. The corners of his mouth curved further down as he forced himself to face the fact that Ritsuko had likely experienced enough that she was no longer emotionally stable, but that was not a conclusion he wanted to acknowledge so readily for its melancholy nature. Rather, the fact that bleak times and circumstances would lend to clinging to a purpose. That maybe he himself, while never having reached the point Ritsuko had, would succumb to something like that in part...

Through his hesitation, only the slightest, slowly-uttered words resounded: "I might just know," Kusakabe responded, "but **—** "

The sound of the door to the kitchen area opening was enough to cleanly interrupt Kusakabe's already fickle attempt at a response he did not want to give, but Ritsuko and Kusakabe were also immediately tackled with a nonchalant interjection from a more than familiar voice, "Hey." The mere sound had Kusakabe nearly freeze in place, but he fought the instinct so as to hurriedly stand proper and collected in face of none other than the chairman. Ritsuko merely looked on in curiosity, her stance nigh unchanged, and Hibari stepped calmly for the corner from which he had likely heard the two, thin frown indicating only vacant boredom, much to Kusakabe's relief.

"Ch-chairman..." Kusakabe bowed, hiding just as well the faintest traces of apprehension from his expression so that Hibari could never see or become angrier from them. As the vice-chairman, it was only natural that his duty lay on exposing the current situation, despite his own unwillingness to. More importantly, it had come quickly to his attention that up until that point, Kusakabe had neglected even mentioning his endeavours in the cafeteria. Though Hibari would likely not be interested, it struck as ill-fitting of his position to wilfully omit the fact.

He was about to speak further, standing upright after bowing for the process, but Hibari had been quicker to loosely ask, "What are you two doing?" His gaze was mainly on Ritsuko, but he remained frowning, leading Kusakabe to think that while Hibari was possibly bored, that very boredom was not aiding his mood. He glanced at Kusakabe if only to better acknowledge his presence, eyes more apathetic than even Ritsuko's. "I don't remember ordering Kusakabe to be here."

In light of the circumstances, Hibari related Kusakabe only to the orders he would attach to his actions, referring somehow to Ritsuko for the humane answer. He had not truly considered the hypothesis of forgetting his own order, and appeared to simply be assuming Ritsuko had a hand in Kusakabe's presence, as if Kusakabe himself could not want to be there. It was only logical, in Kusakabe's current mind: his life was fully dedicated to support Hibari; it was stranger if he had other wants he would take initiative for. In fact, that was the sole reason for his initial hesitation, something he had shamefully started to forget ni the duration of the months. However, Kusakabe was somehow finding some bitterness in the situation, seeing Hibari's attention fully on Ritsuko. "You never ordered him not to be here either, did you?" she countered in turn after her normal silence in processing anyone's words, her voice calm and lacking in the confrontational tone they would normally imply.

"I was just wondering," Hibari plainly answered, taking the retort as any other question before shrugging. "But I guess it doesn't matter." He then shifted his gaze to Kusakabe, as if Ritsuko's own lack of an answer was somehow considered acceptable, a far cry from his attitude in regards to the committee members. "Still, if you were conveniently here already, you could have told me."

"For what reason, if I may ask...?" Kusakabe questioned, modestly so.

"It would have spared me the trip," Hibari said, "I came here to ask more about Nami-Middle."

Kusakabe cooly nodded, recalling the fact that Hibari did have an interest in the History of the school. Rather, he noted it was actually stranger the two had not run into each other by coincidence before, as Ritsuko happened to be the only living source of knowledge on the topic. Regardless, Hibari made a good point, so Kusakabe belied his submission to his reasoning by lightly tilting his head downwards, though making sure the angle was good enough not to appear hesitant, instead. "I see," Kusakabe uttered, "I apologize for not having taken your objectives into account. I'll see to it I gather the information in your stead the next time I am here."

Hibari offered a slight grunt of approval as his only reaction, only to turn to Ritsuko again. "How often has he been coming here?" he neutrally asked, yet again as if Kusakabe was not present.

He figured he was not showing himself reliable enough, and sought to fix the mistake, speaking out calmly as an interjection: "Chairman, if you want, I could always report **—** " The moment Hibari sent him a glance chilling enough to count as a shred of Hibari's irritation his, however, Kusakabe tensed, rendered silent by the implicit order he feared disobeying. Why he would prefer Kusakabe quiet, Kusakabe himself did not know; he did not really want to know, admittedly enough. Hibari's thoughts were never easy to understand, and he knew his own demeanour left much to be desired in the chairman's view. He simply wanted to prove himself, but it was as though there was no chance to begin with.

Kusakabe's gaze was directed to Ritsuko at that point, similarly noting Ritsuko eyeing him wordlessly, hiding within whatever she had in mind to say before locking eyes with Hibari surprisingly quickly. She never seemed to show weakness in front of the chairman, Kusakabe noted with a grimace; and so easily, at that. "About once or twice a week," she wearily responded, "Whenever he's got free time, I assume. Why do you want to know?" The slightest traces of curiosity were present in the question, but Hibari's expression suffered no changes.

Instead, he lowly hummed as he thought, but the sound was laced in raw disinterest, as if he were merely taking in hollow facts. "Again, just wondering," he flatly answered, his voice naturally quiet in face of the casual situation, but expectedly never wavering. "So you two talk among yourselves sometimes, then." He did not ask what it was they would speak of, thankfully enough, and Kusakabe had as such been freed from the trial of justifying something beyond Hibari's own will to the chairman knowing it would be a losing battle. A losing battle he had birthed voluntarily, and was paying the price for in his insecure mind.

"I didn't think that's something you'd care about," Ritsuko vacantly remarked, showing nothing through her frown rivaling Hibari's in cynical apathy, but Kusakabe knew she would usually be more than simply uncaring. Her eyes were ever so slightly narrowed, judgingly so, and they never left Hibari's.

"I don't," Hibari said, his tone only conversational in face of the implications, "as long as it doesn't get in my way. It's not like he's crowding." As would only be expected out of the chairman, Hibari held no such things as fears or insecurities, plowing ever forward for his own whims; an attitude Kusakabe could never possibly mimic. It had always struck as awe-inducing to Kusakabe, in turn surprising him when noting any other person's disagreement with the trait. Kusakabe himself only wished he could be so free of concerns, but he knew he was hopeless, and dismissed the rising train of thought entirely noting his sour mood.

"And you think Kusakabe would let it get in your way?"

"It doesn't matter whether he tries or not," Hibari quickly retorted, "If it gets in my way, it will." The simple response was taken by Ritsuko with initial silence, but surprisingly followed by a wry grimace that Hibari seemed to have noticed with a curious blink of his eyes. What it all meant, Kusakabe could not tell then. He knew at least that the cafeteria lady would never display displeasure so extreme, but that it was rare for her to assume it so readily without a reason.

"Now, that's a silly way of seeing it," she uttered, signalling already outrageousness Kusakabe could never even hope to achieve; in front of the chairman, no less. Kusakabe frowned apprehensively, glancing Hibari's way in fear for her safety, though part of him was already resigned to the fact that she would perhaps get away with the disrespectful stance, somehow. "If somebody's going out of their way for you, it's clear they'll be more trustworthy than most. You sell your lackeys short."

To his surprise, however, she spared such poor conduct for the sake of Hibari's behaviour towards the committee members, of all natural things. The reckless effort was nothing if confusing to Kusakabe, and it was eerily met with a smirk from Hibari, whose amusement was unfathomable considering Ritsuko's words. The confidence exuded in his expression seeped even into his words as he said, "That's because they don't even come close to my level; that should go without saying."

"Even though they'd sacrifice themselves for you?" Ritsuko asked as if she had been more than prepared for that answer, all despite the fact that it was Hibari she was speaking to.

And though Hibari was likely not expecting the question due to his own life philosophies, he took no time to give Ritsuko a prompt answer, "It's precisely that what makes them below me. They willingly chose to be disposable for the committee." To him, it would have been mandatory not to miss a beat in cleanly responding to the cafeteria lady, and keeping that winning smile to contrast with Ritsuko's faint bout of dissatisfaction. Hibari's eyes had narrowed as if pinpoint in his current thoughts, relishing in the hopeless opposition before nonchalantly adding the very conclusion to his cold reasoning: "It means they don't have that much worth."

Only someone who was not familiar with the committee could really protest against Hibari's logic, so Kusakabe noted then, because they would not understand that it was true: accepting Hibari's superiority was a choice and an inevitability. Ritsuko had averted her gaze from Hibari for once, glancing towards Kusakabe to gauge his reaction and seeing the vacant frown of composure he kept to reinforce the chairman's authority. Her eyes had drifted back to Hibari's general direction with a distinctively sympathetic edge, conveying nothing but somber pity. "You walk on thin ice, Hibari," she gently warned, "People who choose their own path are never quite as weak as they seem."

Finally, the chairman must have felt underestimated. Hibari's smile faded, a scowl now surging on his features fittingly enough that Kusakabe coudl not even waver in his concern for Ritsuko, as he had seen the very scenario coming ever since the first time he had seen her. Hibari stepped forward, closing in the distance necessary that the tonfa could possibly hit her were he to retrieve them, and half-lidded eyes unblinkingly scrutinized every detail of Ritsuko's stance with frigid intensity. "Since when," Hibari almost as if muttered threateningly, "did you have the right to lecture me?"

Ritsuko did not waver, of course. Rather, she smiled, wryly so, her eyes reflecting nothing but the supposed exaggerated shift in mood she would witness out of Hibari, and not the true chilling danger of his threats. Hibari was already annoyed enough that he was resorting to threats, so his glare had far from diminished in its icy nature, but Ritsuko could still find it in her to say, "Are you about to take out your weapons for a frail old lady? You know it would be a miracle if I survived that. I'm not as tough as your committee 'watchdogs'."

Silence permeated the area for a full moment, if only because Hibari kept it so. Ritsuko had said her fill on the situation, and Kusakabe could not ever risk interjecting for the chairman's actions, particularly if he was angered. As such, the stalemate continued, tension intact as Hibari did not move a single muscle to the point Kusakabe could not understand if he was thinking over her words, or simply overwhelmed by his own anger. "You know..." Those words were the first signs of movement from Hibari, whose loosely casual tone implied he did happen to be pensive more than angry, somehow. His cold gaze narrowed further, and he glanced to the side as if dismissive, perhaps even calmed. How? Despite his considerable confusion, he could not speak, so he took instead to listening to the chairman's own words: "I don't stop because of your age," he plainly uttered, "or your willingness to die. I don't bite you to death because you have a use that makes it incovenient if you just became a corpse."

"Like being asked about the school?" Ritsuko dryly offered, as if she had put no thought into Hibari's affirmation despite its meaning. If anything, the meaning itself was irrelevant to Ritsuko, despite dictating exactly how Hibari did not offer mercy, but instead working only in his favour, as always. Though, to remind Hibari of his priorities in face of his own anger was something Kusakabe did not think to be possible. "You'll keep piling up that debt of yours with the curiosity you have for the place."

"It'll be paid back," Hibari asserted, "whether or not you act stubborn."

Ritsuko huffed in a similarly offhand manner, as if disregarding each other's responses, nevertheless nonchalant. Hibari had stepped back at that point near the shelf opposite the one Ritsuko was nearly leaning on, and his stance was relaxed enough that it could be thought Hibari had completely forgotten the last exchange. "Such a fuss you committee people make," Ritsuko remarked in mock-indignation, passive in its lack of true intent. "You'd think I'm doing something big to have you talk about debts, but I just do my job and say things."

"We're straying from my real business with you," Hibari said before looking towards Kusakabe. "Also, Kusakabe; you can go now." Kusakabe had blinked in surprise from the sudden attention he was given, though Hibari had referred to him almost as if he had just now remembered his presence in the area. Moreover, Kusakabe had still not been fully able to process Hibari's interaction with Ritsuko, one that yet again reminded him of the very origin of his visits to the cafeteria. He grimaced in light of his own uselessness, unbeknownst to the fact that he had been standing for seconds with Hibari's gaze on him. "Did you hear me just now?"

However, that question was enough for Kusakabe to momentarily snap out of his thoughts, and reluctantly utter, "R-right; yessir." He bowed briefly before calmly filing out of the room, if only so he would not shame himself further in front of the chairman.

As he went, he could still listen to the two. "Any reason for not relying on Kusakabe now?"

"It's not as interesting hearing it from him, you see..." Those words marked the most he could coherent hear before he was out of the cafeteria, and the aching feeling that had settled from it had Kusakabe reconsider being in the cafeteria at all. Kusakabe had never aimed to be 'interesting', or even remotely someone that would linger on Hibari's mind more than necessary, but that was precisely the reason why his negativity would dumbfound him. What was it that he resented? He had always been a mere pawn for Hibari's whims; it was the culmination of his admiration for the chairman. Though, it was in accepting such a fact that Kusakabe would realize his own incompetence, enough that he could not understand Hibari enough to accomplish his job, his sole purpose.

Recalling Ritsuko, Kusakabe found that he did know, deep down, why he was so bitter. He simply wanted to deny it, to shake his head and disregard the shameful hypothesis, because that would only make him an even worse man than he thought. Still, he could sense the surging jealousy in himself, and sought to erase it most of all. For the Disciplinary Committee, of course.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

So went the excuse for the passing two weeks in which Kusakabe felt especially hollow; more than usual, if he mused on it hard enough. The more he avoided the cafeteria, the more it would seem to haunt him, frustratingly enough, with the lonely thought that he could be missing out on something. Mere conversation, but that mere conversation would cause him to think beyond his ordinary extent, learn something that he would have otherwise been in the dark about someone who did know how to converse with Hibari. He was not so sure he would apply what he did learn, or if it even held any practical use, but the mere mental exercise had truthfully impacted his daily routine more than he had initially thought, having him wonder about the future of the committee, even his own.

He wanted to keep that feeling, for once. Was he good enough for that, however? There was only one place that would give him answers without tarnishing his standing, and he was unsure whether to feel displeased at his reliance on it or vacantly somber for having finally returned. He gulped once he was past the door, only to step forward slowly, hesitantly, as much as he wished he would have more courage in meeting up with a mere elderly lady again. "Well now," Ritsuko had uttered as she noted his presence from beyond the counter and stepped for it just as slowly. She smiled, as always, in that cynical way of hers that never let one know exactly what she was thinking; he assumed it was not something cheerful. Perhaps she never missed him at all. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Kusakabe tried to stare straight at the cafeteria lady, but his gaze would become unfocused, only superficially centering on Ritsuko. His expression was similarly blank with fake determination, which he used to cooly state as his only defence for an action even he regretted: "I see you at lunch."

"But not _after_ lunch," Ritsuko sharply retorted, "Not since that time Hibari showed up." Kusakabe could not help the surfacing scowl, but Ritsuko remained as casual as expected as she wilfully shrugged. "I was almost glad you stopped caring about some depressing old lady, but it looks like you're more curious than you seem." It had not been due to her words that Kusakabe's mood soured further. He had simply kept thinking, his thoughts overtaking even his hearing, and Ritsuko's words fell almost on deaf ears. He would attempt to scrutinize Ritsuko's expression as if to find some sort of footing in his troubles, but he was instead reminded of his shortcomings with more intensity.

"... I'm still not good enough, am I?" The main thought out of many had eventually slipped away, out of his control, and he instantly cast his gaze to the floor, knowing there was basically no hope in correcting that. The most he could do was being glad he would not usually similarly slip in the company of the rest of the committee, who relied on him to keep the composure he was so known for, pitifully enough.

"That's a good thing, being curious," Ritsuko voiced dryly, as if it were obvious. However, she did deign to expand on the statement: "People who don't care about anything like me aren't any fun, both for others and themselves."

"Though, that isn't what the chairman thinks," Kusakabe bitterly muttered, mental images of the first time in the cafeteria surging incessantly to emphasize on what appeared to be the cold, hard truth.

"... It bothers you, doesn't it? The way he sees me and the way he sees you," Ritsuko ultimately said, straightforward as always, though the longer than usual silence could even indicate she did put some thought on how to approach the matter. Kusakabe had not bothered to speak more than the fewest words, and the silence did not affect a mind in its loudest state to begin with, leaving Ritsuko with enough time to ponder. "It was the path you chose, but you're still a person."

"And that's still not good enough," Kusakabe grimly added, though, amusingly enough, he did still bother not to raise his voice, if only so he would not sound as pitiful as he already did. Being a person was inevitable, but much worse than being a tool at fulfilling a single purpose consistently, all that he had ever set out to do. "It isn't what the chairman wants..." Furthermore, it was not what the chairman ever appreciated: as the vice-chairman, he was to at least be slightly closer to the ideals of the Disciplinary Committee, but he naturally could not compare to Hibari, no matter how he would try. What was he to do, when factors beyond his control could thwart his usefulness?

"He's your purpose," Ritsuko gently started, "but he's not perfect." Kusakabe did not waver hearing that, doubting its very premise. As far as he was concerned, reality contradicted her very sentence, despite her own opinion. His gaze drifted ever so slightly for the edges of the window, and the sky, in turn, but he found no comfort in the serene imagery. "And he's nothing if not another person, either. He needs you, in the end; he just doesn't know it."

The cafeteria was a place of contradictions, Kusakabe noted. He would easily find incredulous views, and be forced almost to argue back; somehow, he would see it as reliable for answers. Kusakabe smiled, almost as a last resort, before he mumbled in the poisonous taste of the truth he never would admit to the other members, "The chairman has always been free; he never truly needed anyone. I **—** Even the rest, are really only pretending to have a meaning by being by his side. He could go on without us, and nothing could stand up to him regardless. We're just a convenience, ma'am. It's the most we'll ever be." Naturally, there was little morale in acknowledging the facts, and Kusakabe would always tell the others they were essential parts of the infallible organ that was the Disciplinary Committee, working solely for the peace and harmony the chairman would provide. Part of him would repeat that to himself, if only so he could think his support was nothing more than an illusion, but Hibari's freedom was evident, and it invalidated the very point of the committee. The vice-chairman was but an added convenience when it came to rallying the other members much like himself, who surrendered to Hibari's sheer power.

He doubted Ritsuko would ever understand that, unfortunately. As Kusakabe truly wondered why he had appeared in the cafeteria to begin with, he heard Ritsuko's voice: "And you think conveniences aren't necessary? See, Kusakabe," she uttered, her voice firm as though she could start a lecture, perhaps part of the fewest of traces of her age, "If someone didn't have any conveniences, they'd die fatigued now, wouldn't they? He might call you 'disposable', but that's only because you chose to accept that, or else he'd have nothing to sacrifice but himself. Doesn't that end up meaning you contribute more to Hibari's life than I ever possibly could?"

Kusakabe's eyes widened in shock, something he was sure Ritsuko could at least faintly see from the considerable different in height. He was too distracted by her words to fully think of that, however, and he faltered, staring at his trembling hands, wrapping his mind around something so simple. Just how had he been so blind? He found himself with little to say in return: Hibari could feasibly sacrifice nothing and succeed, but he would certainly not be so joyous for the added effort. How idiotic; Kusakabe could not help but acknowledge his own lacking foresight, his true shortcoming that would have him lose sight of the very principles of the committee for petty feelings. Kusakabe's hands curled up to fists, but he could not bring himself to speak.

"Whatever it is you think," Ritsuko said after a moment, confirming that Kusakabe would be silent. "How I see it, Hibari needs you. And he needs the committee, too. If he's willing to act like the leader and incorporate the committee into the strange vision he's got of the world, it's because you might as well be in it. Isn't that necessity enough for you? Meanwhile, I'm just some cafeteria lady he messes around with for five minutes a day or so: it's a pastime. You chose something greater than that, something that delinquent boy doesn't even deserve, to boot. If I were you, I'd have avoided that path like the plague, but if you're going forward with it, at least start being proud of the effort you put into it so you don't end up worse off than I was. If you're coming here at all, make it so you don't become the coward that I was." Ritsuko then took a deep breath, as if physically tired despite having only stood by the counter staring Kusakabe's way. "When it comes to you, I just talk and talk, huh? I'm not supposed to be the school counselor here."

It was a loose complaint, far from genuine and enough to somewhat lighten Kusakabe's mood, battered at first by concerns he could not help but scorn now. He looked towards the sky from that window again, and thought further on her very last words, which had the peculiarity of making sense despite implying Hibari was nothing short of examplary. Kusakabe recalled himself talking of the committee, or his duties: all of it nothing more than a set of excuses to feed a superficial pride. For what, when he was not alone in the committee? Pondering on those he would support, and Hibari himself, Kusakabe finally smiled genuinely, even if only in part. "I guess I've been wasting your time," Kusakabe said, though he continued to look out the window. "It isn't much, but I _am_ sorry."

"... Now, aren't you supposed to be a delinquent?" Ritsuko retorted, supposedly reacting to the modest phrasing and apology. Its slight insolence warranted Kusakabe to direct his gaze her way now, and note her wry smile, indicating the condescension to be nothing more than a joke.

Admittedly enough, he did not have it in him to make that hard-earned smile disappear, even in face of that. "I'm the vice-chairman of the Disciplinary Committee now," Kusakabe responded, feeling in himself at least some right to say that currently, as opposed to before. "I'm nothing if not concerned for the rules, unlike delinquents." And he would endeavour to keep it that way, despite his own self. Kusakabe stared at the cafeteria lady further, and figured then that he did have a reason to turn to the cafeteria, at the very least. Paradoxical though it was, there was something about it that had him ignore some of his sensibilities, and reap something substantial from it in return.

"Well, you're just being uptight in my view," Ritsuko plainly uttered, "I don't even have anything worthwhile to do beyond working, and you say my time is being wasted?" She rolled her eyes, seemingly dismissive of the very prospect with enough intensity that she would show it in her expression, even if in a moderately playful fashion. "You're the one who's choosing to waste time on the dying old lady, so I'd take back that apology, if I were you."

"... If that's what you want," Kusakabe awkwardly voiced at first, certain that it was the first time he had ever been so bitterly urged to take back an apology, of all words. Regardless, unable to simply leave that perspective be, he found himself wistfully, albeit resolutely speaking: "Though, I don't consider it a waste of my time. If anything, it's helped me more than I thought it would. I was being short-sighted, and it took you telling me to notice, pitifully enough..." Kusakabe let those words trail along vacantly, seeing them as sufficient to transmit the point apologetically without being overly so, mainting his desired calm edge.

"You're young," Ritsuko said with a shrug, brushing off the negativity entirely with a simple fact that Kusakabe could not relate with. "You still have a lot ahead of you. The world isn't going to end just because you made a mistake." In a way, he thought, her abnormally pensive pauses and long speeches had been a genuine attempt at consolation, advice which, while Kusakabe had almost as if forced on her by circumstance, she had given with noticeable effort. Furthermore, the last time he had been in her presence, she seemed to be speaking out against Hibari's views, a risk of its own that she would have been aware of perhaps in true concern for Kusakabe's wellbeing, something which he had only seen as the recklessness of someone who was confused about the chairman's ethics. However, Ritsuko was someone who was better at speaking to others than he could give her credit for, and she would know her patronizing tone would tick Hibari off. Was her dryly cynical demeanour only a secondary feature to intentions Kusakabe had not before fathomed in her passive stance?

Yet again, his mind was full of questions, but he could at least find relief in the fact that they were all of a positive nature. "I usually don't understand you, to be honest," Kusakabe said after seconds of silence he had been filling with realizations on Ritsuko's true character, or a mere hypothesis of it, and frowned only to convey the determined nature of the topic he brought to light. "I can't even understand how you could say someone such as the chairman is not worth following when you can so easily speak with him in the first place, or how you can see me and him as equals in standing. I still don't know what any of it truly means, but whenever I listen to you, I really can't help thinking that it's not unfounded nonsense after all."

"In other words," Ritsuko uttered in a strickingly deadpan fashion, "you're still planning on showing up here."

"... If you don't mind, that _is_ the plan here..."

It occurred then to Kusakabe that Ritsuko was more than serious about her discouragement of Kusakabe's presence in the cafeteria, even if he himself did not agree with the reasoning. However, he wanted no more regrets. He locked eyes with the cafeteria lady, whose expression was starting to soften to her more normal cynical smile before conversationally stating, "Well, I got used to rambling to you before; it'll just be more of the same now. Then again, I'll run out of interesting tales eventually. What will you do then?"

"I'll still stop by, somehow," Kusakabe promptly answered, uncaring of the fact that he had no excuse to cover up his will to be there at that point. He had already exposed enough to her for a lifetime, so it made practically no difference.

Conversely, Ritsuko sighed as if resigned. "You have much more free time than you look like you do, really..." she muttered with light bitterness, lacking in malice. Then, her eyebrows furrowed sharply, with tension enough that the regularly relaxed cafeteria lady had ever her shoulders upright, for once. "If you're gonna bother showing up even after I run out of things to say, we're at least making it productive. I'll be a sounding board for your troubles, if anything; it's the least I can do for someone wasting time on me. Just don't go overboard, will you?"

"Right," Kusakabe said in the middle of even processing the offer, but he was not exactly adverse to it when he did. He smiled apologetically, seeing it as the least _he_ could do for her troubles, and thought again that Ritsuko's apathy was perhaps not quite apathy, but distance. Distance that she kept from others because she did not think of herself highly despite her straightforward demeanour. "Thank you again."

The genuine show of gratitude had Ritsuko grimace of all reactions, and she huffed indignantly. "And then I'm the incomprehensible one," she muttered with sourness fitting of an elder individual, much to Kusakabe's amusement, "You're the one wanting to vent to a cafeteria lady. I might as well make it my second job." Regardless, he knew that the literal words were emptied of their meaning, and served only not to reflect the full extent of Ritsuko's own thoughts on the matter. After the slightest exchange of words, Kusakabe had bid his goodbyes to Ritsuko with a smile, and so had she in contrast to her reaction to the agreement. Whether he had been missed before, he was not sure, but he could at least know by now that she had thought of his situation when he was gone, and that she would accept it all evenly. That, too, was probably a reason he wanted to continue talking to her to begin with; because he knew she would ultimately not truly shun him.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"Oh, if **—** " Ritsuko stopped herself from speaking when she did stare at Kusakabe from a closer distance, and a hand hovered near her mouth with concern as he neared the counter. "Now, now, just what are those injuries?" By then, the time between Kusakabe and Ritsuko had been difficult to accurately measure, as seasons after seasons had already passed since that very day, and just as she had told him before, she had indeed run out of most 'interesting tales' she had prepared for his arrival. He was at least sure that her death was not so near; there were at least three more years left. Kusakabe had arrived to the cafeteria by the early afternoon, the only time beyond midday in which he could find Ritsuko alone at all. She would usually stay behind to check on the kitchen area, or even do anything that was accidentally neglected by the others. On the other hand, Kusakabe also had a feeling she would linger a bit further just in case Kusakabe would not be stranded in the cafeteria, effectively 'wasting his time'. At that point, it was a silly notion, but one she sadly believed.

Ritsuko had likely taken notice of the injuries so quickly from the flashy bandages attached to his face, perhaps bigger than the bruises themselves, but they were insignificant in face of the recollection of the circumstances behind them. He grimaced from the thought, partly wishing she had not asked about the injuries at all. "The patrols weren't effective in preventing a recent vandalism incident on the back of the school," Kusakabe bitterly explained, "so I received punishment in their stead."

"So it was Hibari, wasn't it?" Kusakabe reluctantly nodded, though he felt Ritsuko's prompt conclusion to be too telling of the regularity of the matter, none of which brightened his mood. "I swear you get injured more often with Hibari than you do fighting normal ruffians," Ritsuko remarked with a wry smile, as if forcing herself to be positive despite her own words.

"He _is_ the strongest of them all," Kusakabe stated, "It would reflect poorly on the committee if I got badly injured by other delinquents."

"That's not the problem here," Ritsuko asserted as she crossed her arms, frowning in light of Kusakabe's priorities. She would usually put such obvious procedures to question, awkwardly enough, but Kusakabe truly could not help but see at least some pride in being strong enough that he would only get so battered by the chairman itself. It did happen to be a better thought than the mental image of a furious chairman, and there was nothing more important than the committee's image, which he had substantially learned to be accomplished in endeavouring to keep from none other than Ritsuko herself. "The problem is that Hibari is too rough on you and the other members. Just because he thinks you're disposable, it doesn't mean you _are._ "

"... Right..."

"What's that face for? You're acting like no one's ever been worried about an injury," Ritsuko countered, but Kusakabe's vacantly blinking expression did not fade. He had tilted his head to the side lightly without even noticing, only able to acknowledge that Ritsuko was pointlessly criticizing Hibari's attitude again. Though, if that was it, why was he being scolded, as well? "You might be used to fighting alongside all of your funky committee crew, but normal people mind getting hurt."

"I _do_ mind getting hurt," Kusakabe said with furrowed eyebrows, "It's just..." Only now did he start to truly think on the matter, and Kusakabe's before tense expression from surprise had softened as he slowly realized that the criticism applied as well to the neutrality he held for his own injuries. On the other hand, Ritsuko seemed to almost imply she was worried, or that others would worry in general, but his surroundings were packed with colleagues whose daily lives were not so different from his own: the most they would do would be to sympathetically glance, something that would quickly go away when he smiled confidently to show he was as fine as he could ever be. If he were the one to show weakness from the chairman's attitude, the others would surely break down faster, after all; it was only common sense for Kusakabe. "Strange, so to say. It comes with the position to get injured, even by the chairman. You'd think it wouldn't be something to worry about at this point."

"At this point, the only thing I'm not is surprised," Ritsuko dryly said, her voice now slightly softer than before. She would only scarcely try to sound somewhat domeering and quickly tire of the stance, sometimes even coughing from the strain to her throat, so it was only to be expected. "But unlike your funky crew of people who think the same as you, I'm not used to fighting, so I get worried like a normal person. If anything, it's stranger not to be even more worried if you're used to getting beaten up."

"... I see," Kusakabe blankly uttered again, finding that his own justification for not worrying was used against him and that his attitude was seemingly troubling Ritsuko at that point. He smiled half-heartedly in an attempt to look unaffected by the stinging pain he could still faintly feel on his bandaged right cheek, and noticed Ritsuko squinted in that harmlessly judging way of hers with a mental gulp, figuring the tactic was to no avail. "Well, I'm not sure if apologizing would cut it, but I'm sorry for worrying you."

"Who told you I wanted an apology?" Kusakabe glanced aside as if to avoid even his own incredulity from the fierce retort, perhaps for the first time realizing he had not truly spoke casually with people seen as 'normal' in more time than he cared to admit. Rather, if Ritsuko was concerned, he wished she would at least be less harsh in her phrasing, but that was naturally not something he would say aloud despite the urge. "I don't worry so you feel bad about it," she affirmed without hesitation, "I get worried because you show up to the cafeteria looking like a wreck, pure and simple. Doesn't help you don't even bat an eye."

Kusakabe shifted his gaze to Ritsuko, and saw in her a frown that he figured to be warranted for the content of her explanation, but he stared with some confusion when noting that, unable to muster a response right away. It was a simple concept, and Kusakabe himself would often express concern for some of his subordinates if they appeared especially battered, but Ritsuko was concerned for the simple fact that he was injured, even his attitude; for him? Kusakabe grimaced, because he struggled remembering the last time he had ever been worried for as a person, and not as the chairman that others could be disappointed at. In a way, he wanted to take offence to that, as it implied vulnerability, but knowing Ritsuko's simple views that allowed her little discrimination by strength or standing, Kusakabe was instead realizing he had so far been more flustered than he was truthfully confused. Rather than being underestimated by a subordinate, concern was being shown for the simple fact that he was involved, despite the simplest of situations.

"Like I said, I do mind getting hurt," Kusakabe said, those being the first and easiest words that occured to him, "But..." A stray finger of his right hand lightly scratched his cheek as he pondered on how to word something fit of Ritsuko's emotions, but, unable to settle on one under the few seconds the awkwardness of the situation was not intensifying for him, Kusakabe decided to simply smile again, though now genuinely (barring the apprehension of even reacting to something so unfamiliar but strangely not unwelcome). "Thank you, I suppose. Still, I've already gone to the infirmary, so there should nothing to worry about now."

Kusakabe's earnest efforts were then met with a sigh from a weary Ritsuko, admittedly disappointing Kusakabe in a prompt fashion. "I'm more worried for your future, honestly," she said, "I'm no nurse, but I'm prety sure it's not healthy to keep getting hurt like that."

"It's not something I can help as the vice-chairman," Kusakabe responded with a frown, yet again reminded of the circumstances that had led to the discussion to begin with. His eyes narrowed, particularly as he thought of the two members who truthfully were supposed to have been doing that patrol, and their own apologetic gaze when they came across Kusakabe. "It's either me, or the other members."

"And that's the worst part," Ritsuko retorted in one of her most apathetic voices, as if marvelling at how obvious her statement was, much to Kusakabe's displeasure. "You committee people should settle down if you're not actually delinquents."

"We would settle down if other gangs didn't try to sabotage the chairman and the school," Kusakabe calmly argued, though he could not escape the bitter edge the memories of incidents even before the current one would attribute him. His eyes narrowed, though they did not drift from Ritsuko, and his hands clenched to fists. "It's circumstance that forces our hand."

"Or Hibari."

"... The chairman is also something we can't help," Kusakabe ultimately muttered, albeit reluctantly, because he could not deny the proof he carried of incidents Hibari himself had originated. He would not carry the same kind of resentment for those cases, but he frowned nonetheless, and the memories would usually haunt him far more than any fight with a delinquent would.

His thoughts had him unable to continue his reasoning and defend his committee from Ritsuko's needlessly scrutinizing self, so Kusakabe then was surprised to hear her comment, "It really does surprise me seeing someone like you follow such an aggressive boy." It was an absent-minded, innocent remark like any other that would come from Ritsuko, all of which he was already used to, so he dismissed his previous thoughts and his shoulders drooped when he dropped the needlessly tense stance.

"It's only natural I'd follow the chairman," Kusakabe factually stated, "It's my duty to do so."

"And you're alright with the violence?" Ritsuko asked, cautiously so now as the question took on relevance Kusakabe could not entirely discern. Though, normally, Ritsuko would continue a topic in such a way for a clear reason, one more important than he would initially imagine.

As such, he put some thought into the answer, which he calmly but lowly spoke: "I was already fighting before I joined the committee, so I can at least say I do it with a reason now. It's more of an obligation than anything at this point, but I chose this path. If it's something I have to bear through for the chairman, I will, no matter how difficult it is." His resolve conveyed through his unwavering gaze, Kusakabe was certain she would not take that response lightly, or at least intentionally do so.

The long pause was to be expected of her slow self, but he could especially verify his correct hypothesis through her more somber frown. "Whenever I see you with Hibari," Ritsuko carefully said, every word deliberate, "you seem almost scared of what he could do to you. At least, that's how I see it. You might see him as your purpose, but you don't really feel safe around him, do you?"

"That's not the kind of person the chairman is. He's relentless and without mercy; it wouldn't ever be prudent to cross him," Kusakabe responded with surprising ease, pouring out to the skeptic Ritsuko nothing but the truth. Her eyebrows were arched in light doubt, but Kusakabe could regardless manage to smile, now with the slightest hints of admiration. "Still, he has my full respect, and I owe him greatly."

She had stared at him momentarily, as if to see if he would change his mind, but the lack of any further reiterations convinced Ritsuko to smile back, even if hollowly. "Somehow, I'm the strange one as far as you're concerned," Ritsuko wryly remarked, only to shrug. "Well, it's not like it's my decision to make. Did you show up because of the whole incident you mentioned? Hibari did happen to be in a bad mood today."

"I thought you could have some leads," Kusakabe said.

Ritsuko's hand positioned itself below her chin as her unfocused gaze distracted itself with thought, but she had admittedly been quick to shake her head afterwards in Kusakabe's standards. "I stay around for a while, but I don't move from the cafeteria much," Ritsuko plainly answered, "You'd have better luck asking around at lunch time. Just make sure you don't start fighting in the cafeteria."

"I suppose we could resort to that," Kusakabe vacantly concluded, wondering which of his subordinates would be most available and the least intimidating to accompany him for the task, if only to assure the students would do more than whimper. He grimaced thinking about it as one of many troubles, and decided instead to dismiss it so as to continue the conversation smoothly, speaking: "Either way, I'd rather have this solved right away so that the chairman's mood gets better, or there'll be no end of casualties."

"You sound almost like a babysitter," Ritsuko lightly commented after huffing in a nigh patronizing manner.

"I'm the vice-chairman."

" _You're_ Tetsuya Kusakabe," Ritsuko reiterated over Kusakabe's correction as flatly as she usually would word herself, crossing her arms again as she glanced Kusakabe's way up and down in a mock analysis of his physique. "The strange delinquent-looking boy whose strange hobbies including meeting up with an old lady and worrying about casualties."

Even Kusakabe could not help but snort. "I sound pitiful, huh?"

"Unique would be a better word for you, to be honest," Ritsuko said in an absent-minded fashion, one that would nearly have Kusakabe wonder if she meant to insult him had he not known her any better. Regardless, she had also bothered to clarify with a slightly less casual frown, showing traces of concern: "That's not a bad thing, but you should make sure you don't over-exert yourself with the committee. Your life isn't just about school, is it? You've got many more things to do than watching out for everyone, and you're only human."

"... That's strange coming from you," Kusakabe said in almost as much a deadpan fashion as Ritsuko would sometimes phrase her remarks, but he consequentially succeeded in omitting the rest of what he was thinking, particularly the fact that Ritsuko herself was so dedicated to the cafeteria she would be sadder when Hibari did not need her on vacation. The response only seemed to amuse her, however, as she offered a smile.

"Well, you're young and full of life," Ritsuko nonchalantly explained before loosely motioning to herself. "I'm not. It's that simple."

Kusakabe grimaced despite the expected response from Ritsuko, who he had always known as reckless. Though he knew that, and knew why, it did not sit as well as he would often try to make it seem. In that particular moment, he was reminded of Ritsuko's own concern, and argued, "That doesn't mean you should over-exert yourself, either. If anything, that only means you should be the most careful out of the two of us."

"Call me passive, but I'd much rather let the chips fall where they may when it comes to that," Ritsuko wryly answered, looking to the side as if seeing beyond the cafeteria itself in the midst of her whimsical thoughts. She then shrugged, uninvested in the topic. "I don't wanna drag out the inevitable. But that's something I do because I'm hopeless. I'd say it's age, but not all old people act like me, admittedly enough."

"I'm starting to get more worried for you than the vandalism case," Kusakabe reflexively uttered, but he did not regret confessed that, of all things. He was the one staring her way judgingly now, and she noted that with her expression intact.

As her first true response, she waved her hand dismissively. "Don't bother," she said, "There's nothing more wasteful than bothering with me. Start worrying about your life, instead. Heck, even Hibari is more worth it. Didn't you want to understand him better?"

"I honestly don't see myself fully understanding the chairman any time soon," Kusakabe responded in only a lightly awkward manner, as he could console himself with the fact that nobody could truly comprehend Hibari's mind in the first place. Considering how unpredictable and whimsical he often was, guessing at his actions or motivations was a wild goose chase of its own.

"Is he that enigmatic?" At least, so he thought until Ritsuko was somehow _doubtful_ of his statement.

"You don't think so?" Kusakabe countered with blinking eyes, showing only part of the shock he did feel when it came to Hibari's mysterious nature being contested, of all things.

"Well, it depends on how you see him, doesn't it? As far as I'm concerned, Hibari is a student who's a little quirky, but to you, he's what gives your life meaning," Ritsuko dryly explained, only in reaction to the surprise, though the fact that she was probably not planning on going so deeply into her own reasoning would fuel the shock. "There's a difference in depth with the two descriptions."

"I still can't believe you can simply summarize him like that..." After this much time, Kusakabe had neglected to add into the words he bitterly muttered, but part of him did hold none of the surprise he was showing. Ritsuko was someone who could hardly be swayed, and her opinion of Hibari only seemed to solidify with the passing time, even though she would have already talked to him plenty of times, brief as said times happened to be.

"And why can't I? I've known him for years, too, but we're not close or anything of the sort," she said with a shrug, her speech remarkably loose when it came to speaking of Hibari, even if Kusakabe should have known she would be that way. Regardless, he never could fight his instinct to tense, as he would then imagine the result of those caught not applying the minimum required politeness in referring to the chairman. "The most he does is taunt me, for whatever reason. I think he just wants to see me be affected by what he says for once, but I can't possibly care when the cafeteria is my only priority."

However, the moment he truly considered the context of what could only be considered Ritsuko's rambling, Kusakabe found himself pensive, thinking back to the few times he did stumble into Hibari in the cafeteria, still having lunch. He would normally hesitate inwardly in relaying emergency reports, but they were nonetheless of the utmost necessity and would sometimes involve angering Hibari in the middle of lunch: when he was at the cafeteria, however, Kusakabe was much more likely to find Hibari pacified by Ritsuko's remarkably dry but practical banter, and he would leave at least with a neutral frown with Kusakabe in tow, if not a smirk. In pondering the implications, Kusakabe said as his own theory, "I think he just respects you, if anything."

For the very first time since he had met Ritsuko, he saw her speechless from surprise, if only for the fewest of seconds her tiny eyes blinking even faster than his normally would in confusion. "Him?" she sputtered for the sole sake of confirmation, "Respecting someone?" For once, her reaction was relatively sane, Kusakabe noted with underlying relief, only to mask it with a professional frown.

"It's not exactly impossible for the chairman, even if he's aware of his own superiority," Kusakabe said, "As far as I can tell, you contribute to the school environment he loves, so he respects you."

Ritsuko bit her lip pondering on the explanation, and Kusakabe could understand she was unconvinced. Normally, he would have been equally as doubtful, but Kusakabe could not help but tempt the possibility as the outside perspective to the normal exchanges, though the two did not seem to very deeply interact. However, it was at least clear to Kusakabe that, unlike other people, the chairman would see slightly more credibility in the cafeteria lady's logic, and his own mood certainly did not lie, admittedly enough. Now that he was past jealousy, he could find that convenient, and marvel instead at Ritsuko's rare dumbfounded reaction. "He just looks easily bored to me," she bitterly concluded, as if envisioning it as she uttered it, "He gets bored, so he strikes up conversation because he has fun seeing how I'll break."

The grim implications did not escape Kusakabe, but even he could not deny them, saying, "Well, that might also be a reason, but if you notice, the chairman does often listen to you, even when what you say would get anyone else in great danger."

"Isn't that just how you see it?" Ritsuko genuinely offered as the final suggestion, as carelessly as Kusakabe's own point would imply her to be. "Hibari himself can take much more than you give him credit for. If he got so offended with the stuff I'd tell him, I'd just never be honest at all. If it happens, it happens, but I'd rather keep my job for as long as I can here."

Though he did not particularly want to disregard the last part of her response, Kusakabe's awe over the rest of her exposition on Hibari preceded any consideration he would normally put on a conversation, as he had even difficulty voicing anything at first. He stared at Ritsuko, finding that she seemed more than serious about her words, only to resign to saying, "The fact that you can even say that is very telling, to be honest. You do realize you'd need for the chairman to even acknowledge your worth to give opinions so he can even listen to you?"

"Then I guess I got lucky, if you can even think about it that way. He has a thing for the school and its History, so that's probably where all my 'worth' comes from," Ritsuko flatly admitted, as if even disinterested in the concept of Hibari's opinion of her, talking instead from obligation. The cynical perspective was plausible enough that Kusakabe lost some motivation to press on his own version of the matter, thinking instead of whether Ritsuko actually happened to be an oblivious sort of person or not. Was she being grounded in her views or unconfident in her own qualities? When it came to her attitude, he could never discern it from the brand of light confidence it exuded, even if some of her words would truthfully imply an opposite mentality. "Anyway, I'm pretty sure the investigation part of your business was just some excuse, so how about you tell me the real reason you're here?"

Kusakabe froze, but he at least successfully stopped himself from flinching at being so utterly busted. She had definitely started to know him too well for his own peace of mind, Kusakabe noted, but he was deep down entirely welcome to the fact, and awkwardly stated in his bleakest attempt at assertivity, "I thought you might have leftovers."

"Now that's more like it," Ritsuko said after breaking into a more earnest smile, her interest somehow better earned in the prospect of Kusakabe's mundane motivations than the enigma that was the chairman. She gestured towards the side, where the door to the kitchen area was located, and Kusakabe walked for it automatically, guided primarily by familiarity in the circumstances. In the process of opening the door, he could not help but acknowledge even Ritsuko as somewhat of an enigma, as her reactions were not exactly ones he considered 'normal' in his standards, ironically contrasting with her own admissions. Upon facing her near the sink, he heard her speak: "You should take up cooking some more, Kusakabe. You live alone, don't you?"

"It's not really my forte," Kusakabe said, refraining from elaborating so as to have his mood be brighter than the degree of pain he could still feel from the result of the chairman's relentless punishment. Thankfully, Ritsuko would never insist on topics of the sort, and she shrugged casually.

"Well, anyone has things like those," Ritsuko remarked as she began to walk for the corner opposite of the pantry area, in which the smalles of fridges lay mostly unused. He followed her there, content with now hearing ordinary talk from Ritsuko as well, thinking of the better things he had earned from the conversation: "Just don't waste too much of your money with that frozen, pre-cooked nonsense. If there's one thing I'm thankful to Hibari for, it's giving me actual ingredients to cook with. It's been years since there was a budget for those..."

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

One Autumn day of the next year, Kusakabe had a more specific and less underwhelming reason to step into the cafeteria, and he maintained a collected smirk to project confidence he did feel, and hide anticipation he did not want passing subordinates to see. Regardless, his expression had softened when he was in the middle of heading for the counter, where he could see the small figure of Ritsuko from afar, but she was markedly facing the other way, practically motionless where she stood. Even as he reached the very edge of the counter, Kusakabe went unnoticed, so he ultimately called, "Ma'am?"

"Oh!" To his surprise, he was met with a flinch from Ritsuko, who turned to Kusakabe with speeds normally unfathomable from the elderly lady. Once she verified it was 'only Kusakabe' or so he was sure she was thinking, she sighed. "Kusakabe," she sourly uttered as she sent him the faintest of glares, "you scared the wits out of me, suddenly showing up like that." However, she could not quite cross her arms, seeing as her hands were already occupied holding what Kusakabe knowingly and winningly recognized as a photo album he had previously witnessed in the chairman's hands.

"I see you're already looking at it," Kusakabe commented, his gaze entirely directed at the familiar object, in fact designed and constructed through the efforts of the Disciplinary Committee. The varying photos had been retrieved due to Ritsuko's help in relaying information to begin with, but they had been scattered in the locations of families previously involved with the making of the school, some of them entirely forgotten if not for the committee's visit, so gathering them into a single album was solely for the sake of efficiency, and the copy happened to be Hibari's own idea. The manual labour, naturally, had been undertaken by other members, who he proudly recalled, but knew they would be embarrassed if he revealed their names, so he did not expose them. "The chairman was in a rather good mood today."

"He got to pay me back for once," Ritsuko said as she closed the album, now holding it over one arm and smiling only as dryly as always, perhaps after being reminded of the moment Hibari had given the album to her. "Knowing him, it's just a temporary fix. The next time around he'll be telling me all about how I'm stubborn for not just naming desires I don't have."

"It can't be helped," Kusakabe promptly responded as a hard truth, "The chairman is very particular about debt." Rather, Kusakabe was more surprised she would still find herself pointing out the trait so often witnessed, but it seemed as though it was difficult for Ritsuko to process certain aspects of Hibari's personality.

"He could just force me since I'm staff from a school that's basically his," Ritsuko offered in a offhand fashion as she rolled her eyes. "It's his loss, and I'm the problem somehow."

Admittedly enough, Kusakabe had never seen the matter that specific way, and was forced to scrutinize it in his mind for a brief few seconds in confusion. The more he would find about Ritsuko's idea, the more fascinated he was about the conclusion to it, but he mustered it in the calmest manner he could achieve, under a mere quizzical frown: "You'd think you'd be under his jurisdiction if you're part of the school staff, but you seem to be an anomaly as far as the chairman is concerned. The principal, for example, has no authority to even warrant the concept of debt."

"... And why do you think that is?" Ritsuko asked, for once, as if moderately curious on Hibari's perspective now, unlike any other times she would simply ramble about pre-established blasphemies in her own way. She was frowning with belied caution expressed in her sharp gaze, which Kusakabe saw as critical enough that he would need to take the question seriously, even if he would make a point to take anything seriously to begin with.

"I'm not sure," Kusakabe responded slowly as he pondered, mirroring Ritsuko's gaze. "After all, this is the chairman we're talking about; he could be thinking anything. Though, I'd say it's because of the way he perceives you: he treats you like an independent entity more than a tool, if you notice. He might just consider you impossible to subjugate."

"'Impossible to subjugate', huh?" Ritsuko lowly muttered, to the point the words would have been unintelligible were the cafeteria not so quiet. The grimace she had for that very moment faded then, and the eyes she had temporarily averted to the floor return to Kusakabe in their original strikingly resolute fashion. "If he's got time to be all authoritative, he should be showing up to class. That's how you're supposed to graduate, at least."

"You know the chairman would never subject himself to crowds," Kusakabe supplied in what he noted as an especially reasonable fashion, comparable even to a tone he could feasibly use on Hibari himself. Though, whether Ritsuko truly cared for such sensibilities was a doubt of its own for Kusakabe, who saw only her vacant scowl take form and decided to expect the worst.

"He entered the crowded cafeteria the day I met him," Ritsuko shot out as if to start a rant, but she instead followed that with a pinpoint question: "What's so different about class?"

"He probably gets bored of simple theory, as well," Kusakabe said, his voice distant from the first traces of thought he was putting into Hibari's non-existent class attendance. As far as he was concerned, Hibari was seemingly too good for school for lack of a better phrasing, and no teacher could certainly have the right to give him orders. Most of all, however, the mental image of Hibari's fury if he were ever confronted with said teachers was enough to tempt a headache.

"And then he goes out of his way to take over a middle school," Ritsuko wearily drawled, as if already tired from assertively speaking, "It's something, alright. Really has you wondering why he would even bother."

"The chairman has always loved Namimori more than anyone," Kusakabe easily answered, "but he especially likes Nami-Middle. It's not surprising he'd stay here and have it be his main base of operations." It was baffling, even, for the very notion to be questioned, as it was one of Hibari's main certainties. If any member had the same doubt as Ritsuko, they would not expose it to even Kusakabe out of shame, which he would only find understandable.

Though, catching Ritsuko glance towards the album with a somber frown, Kusakabe blinked in wonder, feeling as though there was definitely something more to the outrageous venting. "See, Kusakabe," Ritsuko started with surprising composure, but as slowly as always, "I've known you, the other committee members and Hibari for years now and I've yet to understand why he loves the school so much. You'd think I'd be dead before I even find that one out."

"Well," Kusakabe uttered, but let the word trail for a moment, as he himself had never thought of formulating a response to such a fundamental question. "I can't say anything for certain, but I'd say he personally likes the location. You don't see him out of the cafeteria, but the chairman's usually by the roof either sleeping, or watching over Namimori and the passing students from the railing." Reminiscing on Hibari's better days, Kusakabe could not help but faintly smile. "He's always enjoyed gazing at the peace, and he especially likes the act of enforcing it through his own power. It could even be fulfilling for the chairman to see through to his own ideals."

Considering Ritsuko's focused, though pensive expression as she seemed to earnestly process the simple, uncomfirmed theory, Kusakabe briefly questioned if he had said too much with too much impudence for Hibari's enigmatic thought process, but had instead smiled in kind, and huffed. "You talk like you don't understand Hibari most of the time," she said, "but you know a lot more than you let on."

"It'd be much more pitiful if I didn't know a few things after so many years," Kusakabe responded, but the recent thought of being impudent stopped him from leaving it at that, and his smile became somewhat lopsided as a result of his concerns. "Though, even then, I think I've barely scratched the surface, as to be expected." If anything, the boundary that would outline the very 'surface' was already enough of a mystery, and it sprung him to some extent of thought. Seeing Ritsuko eye him with pure skepticism, likely to remark something about how he was not giving his own knowledge enough credit, he frowned thinking of a counter-argument worthy of not warranting the reaction, and so he would not so easily assume he could get to know a respected figure such as Hibari. His very first surging memory, naturally, was of his unbridled, quiet fury, display in one distinctive fashion. "The way his gaze towards other people is so cold, for one, is something I still can't understand."

Ritsuko herself could not help but give herself more seconds to think than she normally would, but Kusakabe was admittedly the slightest bit surprised that Ritsuko was not simply admitting to ignorance on that matter. Instead, she frowned in melancholy, more clearly than she ever had, and cynically, though gently muttered, "It's not something I wish other people could understand either."

"You know something?" Kusakabe questioned, holding back the urge to display his shock through abnormally widened eyes by furrowing his eyebrows to an almost exaggerated extent. In face of that, Ritsuko's hollow gaze met his, contrasting greatly in its emotionality.

"Not as much as you do," Ritsuko said, "but I _have_ known him for long, so I know the way he looks at things." Her own eyes narrowed, as if she was staring off at something beyond Kusakabe, far from her very surroundings, causing her to grimace in the purest form of displeasure. "Those eyes are the kind of eyes you have when you've witnessed more in your life than you should've. On a child, it's not a pleasant trait to have."

"More than he should've...?" Kusakabe reiterated, the implications heavy enough to warrant a more visible brand of surprise in his reflexively breathier voice. "What are you saying?"

Ritsuko glanced for the album again, perhaps in a display of hesitation. Without warning, she dejectedly uttered, "Everyone copes somehow. We all have different ways of doing it, but we either do it, or we _don't_ _,_ even if that shouldn't be an option. People who've been through a lot, see..." She paused, pensive, gripping the album tighter with trembling hands. "They can sometimes cling to the coping, like a frog in a well. That's never a good choice; it's a problem of its own. I have nothing left, but people like you, for example, should be watching out. And Hibari..." Ritsuko scratched the back of her neck with her vacant hand, scowling only from her apparent lack of proper words to make up her explanation. "Uh... He's probably found something in Namimori, alright. But whatever he did find is on the background of stress outlets a boy his age shouldn't be having, and definitely not the kind of coping that really helps; but he won't let it go, like it's all he wants to know. Well, you won't really take what I'm telling you all that seriously, but I don't think Hibari is free from his own demons, no matter what you tell me about Hibari's boundless freedom or whatnot. He looks up to Nami-Middle, but it's a Nami-Middle he twisted to cater to his limitations; not the Nami-Middle _he'd_ intended. If the student body were all like Hibari, there wouldn't have been any meaning to that promise, that's for sure."

"You mean..." Kusakabe grimaced, only lightly attempting to suppress the anger that exuded from his tense stance. "That the chairman has _demons_ he can't face? That he's... 'A frog in a well'? You're talking about the chairman, of all people?"

"Well, not with the way he's going about them, at least," Ritsuko said, only to sigh. "I shouldn't be the one saying this, but Nami-Middle is for people with life in them, not for spreading death around."

Speechless, Kusakabe stood in place, hesitating with his trembling fist, though it had been raised ever so slightly. Normally, Kusakabe would just simply strike if not order subordinates to do so, no matter the individual, and her words were definitely motive enough to spur him to action: Ritsuko had probably revealed to Kusakabe something she would otherwise omit from the chairman, supposed insolence for the obvious superiority of the chairman. The very concept of Hibari suffering, _coping_ from anything at all, as if it could ever afflict him was not even laughable as a joke, and certainly would not have Hibari pleased if he knew. As the vice-chairman, it was up to Kusakabe to report such slights to Hibari, or handle them himself, but he could not find it in himself to voice the protest beforehand, or swiftly move.

He simply had to step inside the kitchen area like before, and threaten an elderly lady. He did not have to hit her, even if Ritsuko was almost impervious to threats. He needed only assert discipline, but he was frozen in his position, halted by flashing images of previous times. Of experiences he could never replace. Of times he was worried over, consoled, warned without malice and encouraged to rekindle his meaning and purposes; the result of years coming and going from the cafeteria. He felt almost like he would be betraying it all if he did move and exacted the reflexive, implicit orders, and the pain was greater than any injury. Shocked, he stood for a while, with Ritsuko eyeing him apologetically, perhaps even in sympathy when she did not even know what kept him so distraught. As far as she did know, he was furious about her wording, and was waiting to hear him give out any sort of protest. The mere thought added to his frustration, to the fact that he could even be compromising the committee on the basis of feelings apart from his purpose. However, he could not deny the memories, or the lacking malice in Ritsuko's slowly transitioning expression to one of concern, concern for Kusakabe himself, of all _things._

Before she could give that concern its own words, Kusakabe breathed out so as to block out the continuous thoughts, even the sound of his own beating heart. For a moment, he calmly faced Ritsuko, empty eyes noting her carefree stance, her _wrong_ opinions. Somehow, Kusakabe himself would see that Ritsuko was not meaning to insult Hibari or tarnish everything that Kusakabe stood for; he had perhaps been aware of that even before then. He knew her already too well by now, he wistfully noted, before he muttered, "You're unbelievable." He resented himself for not regretting those words, and parted ways with Ritsuko shortly after she could dryly remark on how simple and ordinary she actually was, giving the single excuse that he wanted to leave her to her own devices perusing the photo album. At the very least, he could commed himself for mustering a smile, but also question how it could have been partially genuine.

Though, at that point, Kusakabe had ascertained his own decision: to walk away from the matter, and pretend Ritsuko could be forgiven on the basis that Hibari himself seemed to get along with her. Furthermore, he still wanted to pay her back, and she was useful in her own way. Kusakabe nodded to himself, and numbed the lingering feeling he was running away from the problem by simply continuing to visit Ritsuko, and he eventually hid the memory of the moment in the recesses of his mind, so he would never have to admit to Ritsuko herself that he thought of treating her as any other miscreant of the school.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

By the next year, that insecurity had been more than gone, or at least faint enough that he could simply dismiss it with ease, and focus on small problems that he would come to the cafeteria for, such as one fated White Day. Kusakabe was immediately spotted by Ritsuko on his way to the counter, and her hand hovered near her mouth as she expressed pure concern. "Oh, dear," were Ritsuko's first words in reaction to seeing Kusakabe practically limp through the cafeteria, though he tried his best to keep a reliably professional frown and avoid the recollection. "Just what happened to you? Did you anger Hibari?"

"Well..." Kusakabe paused, narrowing his eyes as he practically scanned the cafeteria for anything remotely ominous despite knowing nothing would be there at that point. He allowed himself the slightest scowl, and the emptied cafeteria had Kusakabe resigned to respond, "It wasn't me, per se."

"He took it out on you, then? It's really something when this kind of thing doesn't surprise me anymore," she said, and urged him to the kitchen with hurried gestures, relatively fast for Ritsuko. Kusakabe complied with the indication, and walked to the door recalling Ritsuko's somewhat unpredictable personality: she was sly enough that she could intend something ominous, but careless enough that she could be entirely oblivious. He would bet on the latter, because the former trait was starting to become much less likely to exist the more he did get to know the elderly lady, who had so far never acted to disadvantage Kusakabe.

Regardless, he had applied slightly more force than necessary opening the door to the kitchen area, and he locked onto Ritsuko the moment he had finished closing it behind him. "Incidentally, do you know what day it is today...?" Kusakabe sourly questioned, unable to keep his own poor mood in check. Were she a member of the committee, he would be more liable to try and even succeed, but he was used to venting to Ritsuko, at that point. If anything, he would find himself in a weird position in which he would and would not endeavour to keep the usual composure, a transition period that he could not quite fathom himself.

Meanwhile, Ritsuko pensively hummed, slowly processing the question and her memories of the day at an excrutiating pace. "Wasn't it White Day? Hibari didn't seem to be in that good a mood today, now that I think about it," she absent-mindedly commented with a neutral frown, perhaps too neutral for Kusakabe's peace of mind.

"... According to what I could gather from the chairman, a group of girls was able to hand him gifts for Valentine's day through the cafeteria, you see..."

The nearly muttered explanation, grim in nature somehow warranted vacant wonder from Ritsuko, who blinked thoughtfully. "Oh, I do remember that," she said only to somehow smile as if amused, about to snicker, even. "Did he eat all of the chocolate? It's rude just throwing them away."

"That seriously doesn't matter as far as I'm concerned," Kusakabe promptly retorted, uncertain of what could even spur priorities such as Ritsuko's, but it truly did fit that she would be more concerned with the food than the chairman himself, he noted bitterly. Regardless, he continued, as coldly as he could: "What does is the fact that the gifts passed in the first place. You don't know the chairman's stance on gifts, do you?"

"He's got a 'stance' on a thing like that?" Ritsuko apathetically asked, the judging skepticism in her gaze so clear he was certain she made no effort to hide it, instead voicing exactly her thoughts on the matter. "Why doesn't he just accept what people give him?"

"He does accept them," Kusakabe clarified for Hibari's good name, gesticulating in unison to the very importance of the topic, "He's very particular about his manners. The problem is with events like Valentine's Day, where it's expected for the chairman to _return the favor._ " Those very last words received otherworldly emphasis along the memories they originated, and the consequent resentment for girls his age that he could not quite entirely deny.

Ritsuko, on the other hand, was straightforward in asking, "Why? He only received a handful of chocolates."

"The amount is irrelevant here," Kusakabe explained with a dramatic intonation, almost as if it were a matter of life and death, "The mere fact that he must pay some girls who don't even have the courage to speak to him back is infuriating enough to the chairman. This is why the Disciplinary Committee takes great care in blocking any and all attempts at gifting the chairman, and yet you just went and took things from the girls without knowing anything."

As if overwhelmed by the intensity, Ritsuko blinked vacantly, only to cross her arms. "Right..."

"... You're not following this at all, are you?"

"Am I supposed to?" Ritsuko dryly retorted, expecting no response from the prospect and warranting a final sigh from Kusakabe, who had inwardly expected to be faced with such apathy. At the very least, she had not intended his suffering, and incurred a simple accident from ignorance, one Hibari had not bothered correcting. He had never truly doubted otherwise, but his mood had been bad enough to tempt the hypothesis, and it was only being calmed by the sheer serenity that would so effortlessly accompany Ritsuko's uncaring stance. "I thought boys liked being popular, but I suppose Hibari isn't any boy."

"It wouldn't be pleasant for anyone if they had to give gifts to uncountable amounts of girls," Kusakabe supplied, hoping instead to reason with Ritsuko. He was nothing if not sympathetic to the chairman's troubles, though always ones he could have simply solved by biting any of the involved parties to death. If anything, Hibari was being merciful in times such as Valentine's Day, and he was certain none of the girls who admired him truly understood the inner workings of Hibari's superiority, even if he could understand their admiration in general. "The chairman is never in a good mood at around this time as a result. He still remembers times like those."

"In other words, he can't be bothered to go through with White Day?" Ritsuko plainly summarized as a question, striking yet again with her outrageous brand of implications on Hibari's attitude. However, Kusakabe's frown only deepened slightly, and he did end up admitting that Hibari would usually prefer avoiding days as pointless as that one.

"It's a matter of pride, especially," Kusakabe responded, "You should know the chairman gives a lot of thought to debts."

"Debts, huh? Such a fuss he's making over school girl crushes," Ritsuko remarked with a wry smile, amusing herself only half-heartedly with the supposedly 'twisted' scale of Hibari's perspective. Kusakabe regarded that with disapproval, shaking his head, but remained mostly unconcerned.

"You know that's not all it amounts to," he patiently stated, locking eyes with Ritsuko to see if he could garner some of her understanding.

"But it is," Ritsuko said in a surprisingly quick fashion, shrugging as she did, "The situation is just how it is. It's not reality's fault that Hibari's in another plane now, is it?"

"But reality's not as important as the chairman," Kusakabe asserted, "That's the difference. My purpose is only attached to the latter."

Ritsuko frowned then, her gaze distant as she pondered. "Don't you think that it's a bad thing?" was her sudden question, uttered almost the precise moment she had thought of it, no doubt.

"What are you talking about?" Kusakabe asked just as quickly, eyes narrowed with expectations of something more than the simple words she had used then. Though her expression was the usual nonchalant frown, her strangely intense gaze, indicating thought as much as it would resolution would usually indicate something more. Something he admittedly would anticipate regardless of the bad odds.

"Hibari's fixation on debt," Ritsuko elaborated as her eyes narrowed, unrelenting in the firm nature of her more serious hypotheses, "like he's afraid of being bound to something."

"The chairman doesn't fear anything," Kusakabe conversely answered without even endeavouring to consider the proposal. It was a mechanical response, one that he could use without regrets because he knew for a fact that Hibari was free, and Hibari could never possibly succumb to anything that could threaten his freedom, much less freedom. The difference in opinion was a mere mistake to be corrected, and even if it was not, it would never succeed to change his mind, so he stood his ground staring at Ritsuko in kind.

From behind the counter, Ritsuko could be spotted loosely gripping the sleeve of her other arm perhaps subconsciously. "You said reality didn't matter," Ritsuko calmly iterated, "but you can't give your life for an ideal expecting the real person to respect you." The sentence seemed almost as if readied beforehand, uttered more sharply than usual and with a quicker speed, but Kusakabe had hardly been able to afford the time to note the latent preparation in the conversation when thinking of the content of her statement.

Unsure of how to even contextualize it, Kusakabe's previously stern stance had faded for the slightest confusion to surface on his features. He raised an eyebrow, the movement slow enough that it would not exude the brusque reality of his quizzical emotional state. "What?" he questioned vacantly, in the midst of puzzling the words and linking them with the previous topic.

Hibari surged to his mind, and he knew he would not hold back on a wistful frown in concluding who the 'real person' was to Kusakabe's 'ideal'. It was not a purposeful critique of the chairman more than a warning to Kusakabe, and knowing that illustrated the underlying concern in a statement that she had likely been trying to find her chance to expose for some time. Though he wanted to simply protest against what Ritsuko considered Hibari's 'reality', Kusakabe awaited her explanation, and she promptly spoke: "See, Kusakabe, I personally try to make sure you have some food for thought whenever you come talk to me," Ritsuko explained, "Even if it ends up being some topic like you beating up some poor football club members or even White Day of all things. You know why, don't you?"

Immediately, Kusakabe found himself thinking of Ritsuko's usual self-deprecating remarks on wasting time, as if there were no worth in being in her presence to begin with. Her efforts were fundamented under the principle that she was no more than her own job, ironically enough. Kusakabe nodded, even if reluctantly. "I know," Kusakabe said with a grimace, "and I still disagree."

"For now, at least," Ritsuko scoffed, her smile as distant as her seemingly confident words, adding to Kusakabe's displeasure. "But you should also know that the way I see Hibari isn't the way you see Hibari. He has nothing to do with my purpose, after all. Since he's just another person to me, that's exactly how I talk to him." She paused to think, likely because she felt those words not to be enough to convey her point, while Kusakabe only glanced aside facing his own opposition. "And I think it would only help you if you faced Hibari more head-on, instead of merely taking these injuries."

Part of him had already expected that conclusion, so Kusakabe could not even try to show himself surprise. Rather, his hesitation stemmed from knowing no clear cut way to soothe Ritsuko's concerns, countering her neutrality on Hibari and keeping to the spirit of the committee simultaneously, the first harder than the rest. In fact, he was sure the first one was impossible, even, and deigned to pretend he was staring straight at Ritsuko when phrasing his cold shadow of a response. "Ma'am," Kusakabe uttered, "I can see you're worried about my situation, but I can't do that." Kusakabe shook his head with closed eyes, as if resigned to the mental image of both Hibari's fury and Ritsuko's disappointment. "I can't clash with the chairman."

In perfect sintony with his imagination, Ritsuko's smile had slowly faded, but she held the peculiar difference of eyeing Kusakabe apologetically rather than in disappointment. It was a disheartening sight, implying almost that she blamed herself for Kusakabe's troubles. Technically, Kusakabe should have been agreeing with that; for a time, he did. Now, it left a bitter taste on his conscience, as he could not exactly conjure a concrete perspective on the matter. "I did say I'd be a sounding board," she quietly said as she stared off to the corner beyond the counter, "I might just be overstaying my welcome."

"It's not that," Kusakabe said with his voice raised to the smallest of levels, and Kusakabe stopped himself then. He gave himself additional seconds to recover his composure, rendering his thoughts silent, and mellowly continued: "I just can't follow your advice. It'd go against what I've resolved for myself."

"... And what's that?" Ritsuko asked.

"To support the chairman for as long as I lived," Kusakabe responded. "With this, I'll never hesitate."

It served as his final answer, the cumulation of the most he could ever truly offer Ritsuko when it came to her own words and opinions. It would hardly change her mind, but Kusakabe at least found some solace in the fact that he could even get to that point; to a point he would simply take her own opinions, and respond with his own without the interference of his own instincts. Kusakabe quickly disregarded the thought, however, because noticing the contradiction of the committee's principles would serve to ruin it all in one fell swoop. Instead, he watched Ritsuko slowly nod, though her melancholy frown remained in place. "It's like I said before, then," she said "Have at it."

Despite the hollow nature of her words, as if she truly would have wanted to say something else, Kusakabe simply thanked her for her understanding, and the two yet again parted ways amicably. Meanwhile, Kusakabe would think of Ritsuko's graceful acceptance of his stance, originated likely from her passive personality. He would have thought her to look down on him, to eye him judgingly like other times, but it was almost as though she had noticed the gravity of his words, and simply backed down, maybe even figuring she would be wasting time. Kusakabe did not exactly know what to make of that, so he instead focused on the truth of the matter: that he would visit again regardless, because he wanted to.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"This hypothetical situation of yours," Ritsuko started, slowly and thoughtfully, as if to make sure she would not mistake her phrasing, "sounds like something very serious, Kusakabe. Are you really alright trusting me with things like that?" With the passing year came change beyond the static routine Kusakabe contented himself with in school, much to his chagrin, and Ritsuko had heard from him a reasonably detailed explanation of the problem that constituted the change. It was nothing Kusakabe himself held in a high regard: it was an obligation, like all others that would linger in the irrelevant panorama of his personal life. However, it was closely related to his living situation and enough to distract him from his life's purpose as a consequence, thus not leaving his thoughts so easily.

At times such as those, Kusakabe would gravitate to the cafeteria, where he knew Ritsuko would not regard him any worse for the problems he would hold; even if he himself was too ashamed to admit they were not a mere hypothesis. His mind still clouded with distant memories unrelated to the chairman, all of which he had always wanted to avoid, Kusakabe retorted with a bitter frown, "If you think I'm just wasting my time either way, it shouldn't make a difference to you, should it? Besides, it's only hypothetical."

Ritsuko huffed dismissively, and offered Kusakabe a small, though wry smile, like always. "That's true. You must've really thought this one through," she dryly remarked, but Kusakabe shook his head in quick opposition to her words.

"Me? If I still act so cowardly in face of things like this, I can barely consider I've thought through this matter enough," he somberly argued, peering into Ritsuko without needing to tilt his head down to see her, as he was seated by the stool on the kitchen area. Ritsuko, on the other hand, would remain standing, crossing her arms and pursing her lips as she gave serious thought to the topic at first indirectly introduced by Kusakabe, as he had admittedly expected.

"See, now," she said, "The scariest things are always inside your heart." She then gestured to her chest subtly, and frowned sympathetically as she further noted the slightest hint of shame in Kusakabe's narrowed gaze. "No one else can truly understand how frightening they are, and that's exactly why they're so scary. It's a fear you end up fighting on your own, even if people are there to support you. Speaking of, don't you have friends of your own?"

"I can't just lose face in front of the other members," Kusakabe promptly answered, "much less in front of the chairman, of course. I figured that if there was anyone I could seek solutions from, it would be you." He spotted Ritsuko grimacing when he shifted his gaze back to her, likely originated from her notion that she was never the person qualified for whatever matter, but she remained silent with thought rather than voicing it. She had voiced it so many times Kusakabe was certain she already knew he would be expecting it, much less having remembered it at all. Similarly enough, Kusakabe had learned to think past the regret he would feel entering the cafeteria, as complying with her words would be inherently accepting them.

"... What you're doing is not cowardly," Ritsuko ultimately said, "and you should stop acting like you're not worth anything. If you're looking for solutions, aren't you trying to face things head-on, in the end?"

The irony in Ritsuko's logic warranted a lopsided smile from Kusakabe, who cast his eyes to the floor pondering on her question. There was no amusement to be had in confronting his own tendency to escape his deepest problems, and the shame had forced him to look away from Ritsuko, but he knew better than not to muster a response, the very first that occurred to him: "I could just be venting to you knowing you'd agree to it," he said, "instead of really getting anything done."

"Even when you get a solution to your problems? I thought Hibari kept you around for a reason."

"I work hard for the chairman," Kusakabe asserted, but, in recalling his current concerns, he repressed the urge to sigh and glanced to the side. "Myself, on the other hand..." He muttered that last sentence, unfinished because its very start was tiring enough for his mind, particularly then. He would have gauged Ritsuko's reaction, but he stared down at his own hands instead, loosely over his legs and lacking in any signs of anger he could have felt for himself. Seeing as there was truly nothing he could change, he could not even muster the energy.

"Well, you should start taking care of your problems if you want to start fixing other people's," Ritsuko claimed with greater assertivity than Kusakabe, and he could find himself imagining her shrug in her carelessness. "It's as simple as that."

"I can't say you're wrong, really," Kusakabe reluctantly reasoned with narrowed eyes, "but I just don't know how I should manage this." Realizing the vulnerability laced in the pensive statement, however, Kusakabe cleared his throat. "Hypothetically-speaking, of course."

" _Hypothetically-speaking,_ " Ritsuko reiterated with needless emphasis befitting of Kusakabe's lie, "You should be taking a break from your disciplinary committee work and settle things then."

"You know the chairman wouldn't be pleased with that," Kusakabe said, yet unable to face her.

"And you think he'd be more pleased if your performance is down? Just set someone to replace you while you're gone and go talk the matter out," Ritsuko dismissively retorted, almost as though ordering Kusakabe if her voice were not so characteristically low-spirited. "You wanted to stay here no matter what, didn't you?"

Out of all of her straightforward wods, Kusakabe's attention was primarily garnered by the last question, and he could not help looking up to see the expression she would be making with it. Ritsuko, in fact, frowned sternly as she sent him a squinted, judging look that Kusakabe had not seen in some time, but it had conversely not been missing, tugging at his insecurities needlessly. "I couldn't leave the committee behind," Kusakabe pressed, watching Ritsuko's back lean further onto the uncomfortable-seeming shelf.

"Then you'll have to cut your losses," she slowly uttered, each word deliberately dragged out to impose her only solution, "and make sure you can take care of all that legal nonsense with what's left of your family, because your livelihood is riding on this one." Ritsuko found herself coughing afterwards, drawing Kusakabe's focus to the idle thought that Ritsuko had lately been slower than usual in her movements; a fact he would later come to regret dismissing.

He watched that with displeasure as he thought of Ritsuko's words, and finally found it in him to sigh. "I guess you're right," he said with slight dejection in his tone, but not to its full inner extent.

Ritsuko took a deep breath, conversely, as if to recover her bearings, and spoke: "More importantly, you should get some closure," she offered in a surprisingly grim fashion, crossing her arms once again. "Go to the funeral or light some incense or whatnot, but you'll be dragged down by the weight of the dead you didn't respect otherwise."

The unexpected advice had Kusakabe blink, but not exactly because it was contextually inappropriate. Instead, the very mental image Ritsuko was proposing appeared especially difficult to processs, so his vacant frown was only changed after a few seconds of thought, in which he finally managed to learn some intensity to have his hands curl up to fists. It was a pointless sign of emotionality he could not rightfully use now, but it soured his mood further regardless. "To be honest," Kusakabe said in an uncharacteristically cynical fashion, his gaze distant with thought, "His death is my closure."

Ritsuko shook her head, somberly so, and closed her eyes, away from his statement. "Kusakabe," she called, voice weary from the years. "The committee shouldn't be something to hide behind. The moment you try to face away from your own life, you won't quite feel whole again." Kusakabe knew he had heard a similar kind of admonishment from Ritsuko before, and scowled knowing the bleak phase that had spurred those kinds of words for him. Noting his fists trembling as he processed the jumbled frustration and shame surging from his thoughts, Kusakabe trying to lock eyes with Ritsuko and feign resolve that would accompany his tense stance.

"Is it so bad," Kusakabe argued, "to just want to be the vice-chairman?" He had finished that question aware of his voice raised slightly above his normal level, attributing intensity to the question as if it could stand for itself without an answer; or was avoiding one to begin with. Still, he could not bear constructing the calm voice now, as the words continued to slip by without warning or control from his part. "It isn't that I hide, as much as I have nothing else to look forward to but the life I chose. You yourself aren't simply fulfilling a promise, are you?" By directing the question back at Ritsuko, who he had always considered a somewhat relatable figure, he had found his attempt to corner her in the argument, and he lightly cringed noticing his pitiful self, unchanged from the past years.

"I'm running away from my shadows," she quickly answered, to his surprise, scowling in the most melancholy and bitter way he had seen one illustrate the expression. "Is that the kind of life you'd look up to? I'm the actual coward, in the end: I ran away from my family, my friends, my own name, even my sins..." Kusakabe's eyes widened in the moderate shock attributed by the confession, vague in nature and seemingly unfounded in previous conversations, enough to add to the anxiety that fueled his thoughts. "Kusakabe, if there's one thing you should understand, it's that the path you chose should be treaded on your own two feet."

"And what does that even mean, really?" Kusakabe countered, glaring Ritsuko down despite the wistful edge in her own gaze, seeing nothing but his overflowing frustrations. "That there's no true weight to your own purpose? The only reason you're alive is to fulfill that promise, and you call that running away? I've been by the chairman's side because it's what I truly wish for; isn't that enough? This is why I still can't understand you, even though I should know by now what you stand for." Kusakabe mulled haphazardly over his own ignorance, wryly figuring Ritsuko's exact perspective would always be an enigma he wished he could understand, perhaps as a distraction to the lacking traits that continued to similarly haunt him through the years. He was given the time to process that, and the unsightly nature of his current attitude by Ritsuko's silence, lasting almost half a moment. Kusakabe stared into Ritsuko's hollow gaze, and grimaced.

"... I don't stand for anything," Ritsuko asserted, "other than what _he_ stood for." The bleak affirmation was sudden in the middle of the somber quiet, and Kusakabe noted Ritsuko's unchanged scowl as she looked to the side, off to memories more distant than even the ones Kusakabe was currently burdened with. As a mention of transient worth, a footnote of a depreciative narrative she would have never before entrusted, Ritsuko spoke, undeterred by the apathy her voice contrastingly conveyed: "Satomi died with a single gunshot, and 'Ritsuko' didn't even bother respecting the two casualties she caused. Look what she's up to now."

"What...?" Kusakabe voiced before successively blinking and confirming the reality in front of him. He had stood with little awareness of the action, in the midst of connecting the sparse dots Ritsuko had provided to contextualize the background that allowed her depressive yet superficially apathetic demeanour. However, he could not form something concrete then, and stared incredulous Ritsuko's way.

"It's probably nothing Hibari or maybe even you could be fazed by," she knowingly said, originating the bitterness in her words, "and it isn't even something I'm fully guilty of, but I wasn't haunted by the deed itself. No, it was the fact that I'd sacrificed so much of my normal life, and couldn't even bear to admit to the path I chose." She dryly smiled, finally, as the single situation almost as if panned out in front of her, used wryly as a mere reference for an explanation to Kusakabe, whose complete shock had him frozen in place. Ritsuko had admitted to enough that she could have already known her words would be accepted, but she continued regardless with an uncharacteristically cutthroat tone: "Even from that, I managed to escape. Now, I'm just a dying legacy. You, on the other hand, still have a lot ahead of you, and you shouldn't be replacing that with a duty that's not even a fraction of what you're really made of. If you want to be the vice-chairman, be my guest, but don't just be the vice-chairman and leave it at that. Be Tetsuya Kusakabe, who happens to be the vice-chairman. That's how life is lived to its fullest."

Admittedly enough, Kusakabe did not find himself able to give Ritsuko an answer that day. After a moment of silence between the two, Kusakabe excused himself somberly and walked away with a quiet word of empty and polite gratitude despite his contrary state of mind. She had never reprimanded him for it, of course, and freely let him leave without any further insistence, unbeknownst to the fact that Kusakabe would not return to the cafeteria for over three months.

It was not due to Ritsuko's sudden admission that he would come to want to stay away from the location, or any variant of substantial fear: he had heard, even witnessed intentional deeds of an equal, or even worse caliber. Rather, Ritsuko's very last piece of advice had struck Kusakabe with anguish enough that he could not bear returning knowing he would fail to live up to the expectations placed by it, as he had never been able to step up to them to begin with. Kusakabe had eventually let himself be confronted with letters and was met by a relative over a free weekend, and he stepped no foot onto the cemetery, grimacing even at the thought. He had also never accomplished assuming the full burden of Tetsuya Kusakabe, and doubted he ever would.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

However, like an inescapable fate, Kusakabe stepped slowly for the cafeteria, taunted by the recesses of his mind on the flimsiness of his supposed decisions. Even so, considering the context that spurred his visit, Kusakabe reasoned he had no choice. In the months he had not shown himself, the committee's morale seemed to be descending to levels that would bring upon the concern of his subordinates, who pointed out a likely reason for the situation. Kusakabe would have wanted to avoid it, at first, but the insistence of the other members was telling of a reality he had tried not to think about, one that was described to him as Ritsuko's deteriorating condition. He had not witnessed it himself pitifully enough, and could only confirm it noting Hibari himself more guarded than usual over his trips to the cafeteria, as if expecting something.

Kusakabe headed for the cafeteria hoping that expectation would not be answered, as he could not help but see it as his failure to ignore the one person that seemed to acknowledge him beyond what even he wanted to. The memories gnawed at his already jumbled peace of mind, and Kusakabe was immediately greeted with the sight of Ritsuko outside the kitchen area, near the door as if she had just closed it. Her gaze jaded, distant in lacking thought, she had not taken notice of Kusakabe until he took a few more reluctant steps forward. She blinked, seemingly confused, and grimaced when she gripped her bag tighter; that bag was only seen when Ritsuko was about to leave the school, Kusakabe noted; in other words, he was no longer even expected at that point, and that truth struck at him like a knife to his chest. He stood in silence for a few seconds, processing only now that he needed something to say, a greeting that he could consider appropriate, or even a show of concern he truthfully held. "The chairman is restless as of late." Instead, Kusakabe resigned to his usual priorities, the only things he could comfortably utter.

Almost as if frozen in place, she had lacked even the reaction time to change her expression for the fewest seconds, and Kusakabe could see her hands tremble as her only subtle form of movement. Then, Ritsuko raised an eyebrow, eyeing Kusakabe skeptically, almost as if questioning his very presence. "That's the first thing you say after so long?" she voiced, surprise lightly laced in her tone mixed with vacant indignation.

Kusakabe shifted his gaze to the floor. "It's what I came here for," Kusakabe cooly responded, voice low from moderate guilt. "Your current..." Kusakabe sighed in face of his hesitation, though he still could not bear to look at her. "Situation has been affecting the committee's performance. It's only natural I get entrusted with checking up on you."

In half a moment, Ritsuko was huffing condescendingly. "Was the committee always made up of softies?" she retorted in a dry, off-ahnd fashion, as much as she could muster from her strained voice. It warranted Kusakabe to raise his head and note her weakened self, and he could faintly assume she was currently ill, either with a cold, or something slightly worse. If it happened to be the byproduct of another illness, Kusakabe did not want to know, and he scowled processing the implications of her question, instead. "If it's your chairman they're worried about, I'm sure he'll live."

"He's concerned about his debts," Kusakabe bitterly countered, feeling as though Ritsuko had been meaning to insult his perception of the matter, for once. Perhaps she had noticed his hesitation and rightfully reacted, but even that, Kusakabe could not yet find acceptable, face it the way she would have wanted him to. He glared her way, seeing her apathetic expression unchanged. "That would obviously affect the rest of the committee by default, with good reason. Even if the chairman would 'live' through it, you'd do well to start thinking on something to ask out of him."

"Before I die, you mean?" Ritsuko wryly added, causing Kusakabe to falter, resigned to the word he had been trying his best not to even consider.

"... Before the chairman won't have a chance to make it up to you," Kusakabe corrected as a demotivated mutter, one that he hoped would block out the surging mental images. His gaze was fixed on Ritsuko, confirming her existence, but nigh condemning it as well; a paradox that he partly wished he had not seen. Though, not having checked at all would have only intensified his own hopelessness. Most of all, Kusakabe was simply unable to stand still knowing the truth, but verifying it was an entirely different matter now.

Ritsuko shook her head calmly, the gesture one of resignment more than denial. "There's no point in paying a dead person back, Kusakabe."

"But you aren't dead," Kusakabe asserted.

"Yet," Ritsuko ultimately added faster than her other words, and Kusakabe was forced to stop himself from flinching. He scowled, confronted with an unrelenting opinion Ritsuko conveyed as fact, a fact that, against his wishes, would ring true sooner or later.

Even so, his eyes narrowed coldly, and he stood upright as a mark of his expected composure. "Are you just waiting until you are so he doesn't go out of his way? It's clear he wouldn't forget," Kusakabe stated with somber certainty, peering into Ritsuko's cynical gaze. "The chairman will always move forward, but he doesn't forget."

In face of Kusakabe's defensive resolution, Ritsuko subtly shrugged, the movement small as if from weariness. "I can't help what doesn't have a clear solution now, can I?" Ritsuko retorted, "I can keep trying to think about it, but if nothing comes out, I can't make it come out." Despite her current condition, Ritsuko did not quite cease to assume the careless stance she always would, even considering the mood. She was at least not smiling, but Kusakabe could almost envision an equivalent conversation from a more energetic cafeteria lady, and he tensed concluding that fact.

"... You seem the same as usual," Kusakabe sourly commented, the only words that occurred to him towards a wistfully static Ritsuko. That very trait would have one believe she could last forever, beyond the counter she was now out of; it was a naive thought, and he knew that.

"Of course I do," Ritsuko responded, "It's not like I'm any different."

"If you know why the chairman is restless, you can't honestly say that."

"Unless I can't move anymore, I _am_ the same, as far as I'm concerned," she stated without hesitation, glancing towards the door out of the cafeteria with vacant eyes. Her arguments were always slow, but they could rival Kusakabe's in intensity, even despite the implied helplessness in Kusakabe's tone as he would press her to finally give up. As always, she would not, and instead showed him perspectives he had never before thought he needed.

Seeing that almost fade away before his eyes, Kusakabe claimed, "You shouldn't be working like this." He looked back to the kitchen area beyond the counter, clean and arranged as it would any other day, though that was only at a distance. Kusakabe doubted she would perform at her precise standards in a weaker state, but he certainly had never seen her skip out on her work, and he could at least be sure that would only worsen her already fickle physical condition.

"And why not?" Ritsuko asked with pure confusion, as if unaware of her own age. She would often say she was old, and proceed to act otherwise, ironically enough. Memories of Ritsuko and Kusakabe speaking would linger in his mind as the proof of his justified emotionality, one he had been unable to throw aside and now clouded his mind with nostalgia, preparing for something that would come to and end.

Kusakabe grimaced, noting his clenched fists. "You've told me to take a break," he firmly urged, though the strain of it was considerable, "To get away from the committee. Why can't you do the same?"

"We're different, Kusakabe," Ritsuko bleakly answered, and Kusakabe afforded her no time to elaborate.

"We're not that different," he promptly claimed, the sluggish pace of Ritsuko's words daunting enough that he could not bear refraining immediately from saying what he had always thoughts, perhaps the main reason he would always return to the cafeteria. "We both stand for those who gave us our purpose. Do you think it's wise acting like this just because you wouldn't have many years left to live anyway? Does that somehow make a difference to you?" The questions were supposed to be answered, however, so Kusakabe awaited Ritsuko with expectant eyes that would not leave hers, even if he knew she would not waver before anything he would ever mull over, frustratingly enough.

"... Hibari isn't the only restless one, is he?" After the passing of a moment, Ritsuko had voiced her only quiet reaction to Kusakabe's demeanour, and he nearly blinked in surprise if not for the recollections that occupied him with what he could supposedly be losing, and the very sight of Ritsuko. He instead glared her way, scowling in light of the vacant sympathy that Ritsuko conveyed in her softened gaze, none of which he asked for in a situation centered on her only.

"Are you planning on not answering the question?" Kusakabe bitterly countered, his frustration seeping into his calm words in amounts he would have normally been ashamed of releasing. For once, she turned away from Kusakabe in the discussion, shifting her gaze to the door with a grimace.

"I warned you beforehand," she said, "that bothering with me is a waste of time. Hibari can at least do that without caring, but you..." The momentary pause was seemingly so she could even find the conclusion to what she was trying to say, but she had quickly given into melancholy and sighed. Then, she slowly walked for the exit, leading Kusakabe's eyes to widen from surprise.

"Where are you going?" he asked reflexively despite knowing the answer, but the shock preceded his ability to eloquently convey his thoughts as he watched Ritsuko continue on without intending to stop. It was the first time she had walked out of a conversation, and the last action Kusakabe would have ever associated with someone who would passively stay for conversation that she thought would waste his time.

Now, as if he were the waste of her short time, she gently uttered, "You shouldn't talk to me." Midway into her trek out the cafeteria, Kusakabe thought to stop her, to shout for her to wait or even to catch up to her himself, as he could assuredly manage it. However, what would he do, then? For what would he bother to force her attention to be directed his way? The more he thought of it, the more he saw he did not truly need an answer for the questions he posed, nor did he especially worry for the debts Hibari was already concerned enough with. Still, the distance created by every step would add to the transient feeling the current cafeteria lady would exude, almost as if he would never see her again. "Enjoy your life, Kusakabe. Try not to illude yourself I'm part of it."

Just like that, his instinct to stop her faded, because Kusakabe understood she had finally realized that he was beyond all hope. It was perhaps because she was at her last moments of life, but Ritsuko had known now to cease her expectations for Kusakabe, who continued the very same vice-chairman in name only, unable to acknowledge himself to even improve. In truth, he wanted to say something, apologize, insist that he would try harder, that he would not give up, even if the words were hollow **—** As long as they would warrant her return, and that was pitiful enough. But they would not, however, and Kusakabe cast his gaze to the floor in shame upon seeing Ritsuko out of the cafeteria unceremoniously, without having ever heard from Kusakabe that he had in fact missed her the three months he was absent.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"Thanks for visiting, Hibari. You can stop wasting time on me now."

Even through that grueling attempt at her last words, Kusakabe was somehow able to bear without storming into the room. Hibari was supposed to have left seconds beforehand from the sheer outrage of the conversation, but he was only now passing by Kusakabe without so much as acknowledging his presence. To begin with, Hibari did not request to be accompanied by the vice-chairman, and Kusakabe had been the one to insist on the visit despite the words that had weighed on his mind from Ritsuko; clear signs that she wanted nothing more to do with him.

Regardless, Kusakabe rushed into the room the second Hibari had left his line of sight, and he saw Ritsuko sigh, of all things. As though the situation was his fault only. "I didn't prepare anything for you," she deigned to utter, wearily so. "But I suppose I should've expected this, in the end."

"Why did you have to say those things to the chairman?" was Kusakabe's first question among a sea of equally pertinent inquiries, all of which he wanted to share with the weakened Ritsuko. Even so, the first one lingered with greater relevance, and Kusakabe glared into Ritsuko's eyes, fists trembling in anger that did not simply originate from the committee.

"It's the least I could do for him, all things considered," Ritsuko responded, drawled even, through the seemingly lackluster question with a glance towards the sky, paying little mind to Kusakabe's emotional state.

"The least you could do? He was furious," Kusakabe pointed out with clear indignation at what he considered to be nothing more than nonsense, perhaps the kind that would assail someone at their last. She lay there almost too appropriately for Kusakabe's peace of mind, staring vacantly into his ardent gaze.

She then smiled, wryly so. "I'm more surprised he didn't kill me then and there," she lowly remarked, light contempt laced in the words poisoning the superficial amusement, but it was far from being directed at Kusakabe himself. Her eyes distant, envisioning Hibari still, Ritsuko only fanned the fire of Kusakabe's inner turmoil, which reached a point of daunting silence that very moment. The remark echoed faintly in his mind, and Kusakabe's shocked expression belied by widened eyes was replaced swiftly by a sharper glare, eyebrows furrowed as his arms were raised instinctively from the burst of emotion.

"Is that what you would've wanted, really?! For the chairman to just end your life?!" Kusakabe snapped, the urge uncontrollable at that point when his thoughts were met with Ritsuko's grim implications, contradicting all that had led him to that very hospital room. He did not reconsider his actions, and he could not find it in himself to regret the exclamations now when driven to such fury, propelled by the cumulation of negativity dating even before that very ill-natured remark. It continued ringing in his mind regardless, along with previous mentions of wasted time and an end that was to arrive.

Her presence supported the thought, and the hospital walls did not lie. Ritsuko had been too tired even to show surprise at the never-before-seen outburst, but the smile had disappeared, and she blinked with squinted eyes. In the past, that would not have been the full extent of the reaction, or so he hoped. "It would've been a bonus, if anything," Ritsuko calmly answered, "but he's always known that. He's more perceptive than he seems."

Kusakabe kept his footing firm, stopping his trembling self from acting blindly in his rage as the continuous apathy of the cafeteria lady overwhelmed the countless possibilities for a reaction. "You...!" His throat was as if blocked from the rest, and Kusakabe stood helpless before what was nothing more than Ritsuko's pure, unadulterated honesty. Kusakabe had always known that truth, and could have always denied it before, but now illustrated a different circumstance along with an added depth to her more bleak past words.

Struck by such memories, he was only brought back to reality by Ritsuko uttering in quiet contrast to Kusakabe, "Why don't you calm yourself down now that you're here? You didn't just appear for nothing, did you?"

"I came here because **—** " He afforded the briefest second of hesitation, in which his own truth flashed before his mind; one that he had never admitted to the last time he had seen her. "Because I was worried, alright?! Shouldn't that be obvious...?!" However, there was nothing left for Kusakabe and Ritsuko: if there was ever any time he could finally vent the deepest of his feelings, it was then and there, when gloom loomed over the current reality. He breathed out, as if weary of his own intensity, and displayed the emotion his fury had been desperately hiding with his softened gaze.

Kusakabe's thin frown conveyed nothing more than hopeless sadness as he calmed his own rage, realizing the true extent of his preemptive grief. Ritsuko eyed that with the smallest of smiles, confusingly enough, and the memory of the expression being more fittingly used in past situations surged lightly in his mind. "See, Kusakabe," she gently muttered, "You're a good young man. And it's because of that you get pushed around by those more twisted than you are."

"Huh...?" Kusakabe vacantly blinked in reaction to her peculiar conclusion, uncertain as to what could even lead her to think anything of the sort, and watched as Ritsuko looked to the side, towards the nearby window projecting the clear sky. It clearly did not fit the mood, if anything, and the irony had Kusakabe avoid staring at it along with Ritsuko.

"I honestly didn't want you to see me like this," Ritsuko lowly admitted, only to dismissively wave her hand in the slightest of movements. "Not out of shame or any silly thing like that. I just thought you'd be better off not liking me. Hibari, I can still let slide: he could kill me himself and his only thought would be on how the cafeteria would be less up to standards." Her eyes had narrowed then, as if she could imagine the scene in front of her without a margin for error. However, her smile remained intact, fitting little with the matter she was speaking of, and continued to utter: "You, on the other hand, have much more to lose for no reason other than having wasted time on the dead. An honest mistake, but not one I wished out of you."

The revelation was honestly staggering to Kusakabe, whose silence only marked that feeling outwardly. She seemed almost regretful, disappointed in herself rather than Kusakabe as he himself had interpreted that day because he thought, for once, that he would be finally seen as the waste of time for her. In the end, that happened only to be wishful thinking from Kusakabe's part, a relieving but painful notion that assured him Ritsuko was as cynical as always but not enough to abandon all hope in Kusakabe. He still doubted the conclusion, or wanted to so he could not become frustrated with the implications, so he asked, incredulous, "Is that really what you were thinking the last time we talked? That it'd be easier on me if you cut everything off just like that?"

"You're not as much of a hopeless case as Hibari is, after all," Ritsuko plainly responded, her response supposedly easy enough to be voiced faster than others. "You can still be reasoned with, and move on from things." Despite that, she ultimately grimaced, gazed affixed to that sky as if for self-reflection; as if she were the most flawed of the two. "If I'd just been less passive at the beginning, maybe I could've even pushed you away from the start..."

"Up until the very end, you were just..." Kusakabe paused when processing his own overwhelming frustration, and suppressed it despite seeing it as justified. His eyebrows furrowed, and he reminded himself of the heart of the matter in his mind to speak: "You were blaming yourself? That's nonsensical," he fiercely claimed regardless, the intent nothing but genuine in conveying part of what he had wanted to say the last time, now undeterred from any shame as he knew that he had never been shunned to begin with. "Why is it that you always think I didn't appear before you out of my own good judgment? Anything else could've been a better reason for what you've done, but not... _That!_ " Unable to even define it, Kusakabe had left it at that, noting from his twitching eye that he had not been so emotionally charge in a long time, to the point of even showing his full thoughts on the situation.

Ritsuko, meanwhile, had only showed herself responsive by glancing Kusakabe's way, gauging his expression. Another set of silent seconds passed afterwards, with her eyes still focused on the outside rather than the depressing hospital room. "Well, it's too late to dwell on it now that I've done it. It didn't work, anyway," Ritsuko wearily uttered, "I forgot you were too persistent for your own good." She lightly coughed then before she sighed, evidencing resignment more than the strained edge to her stance. She did not look back at Kusakabe, making it difficult to discern when she would begin to speak, but seconds after that sigh, she introduced another statement: "You might have thought I was being too harsh on Hibari, but I was only telling him what I reckoned he needed to hear."

The topic had Kusakabe recall the very first question he asked when coming inside the hospital room, a shelved matter he had admittedly been giving less importance to with the passing realization of his own emotions. However, in consequentially wondering about the chairman's emotional state after being spoken down to so insolently without beating the other party rekindle the doubt, and Kusakabe asked with a grimace, "Why did you do something like that? Why now?"

"Why? Because I knew he would show up; nothing more, nothing less," Ritsuko answered, only for a scowl to surface on her features, signifying the moderate brand of bitterness she had perhaps never fully shown even to the chairman she spoke of. "He talks big about the school, but it's done nothing for him so far. If he doesn't even know what a school stands for, how is he going to enjoy it? Better yet, graduate? This is the first time I've had to talk with a student for more than three years, and I just wanted to see in him what I saw in the people who would leave: a sense of freedom to move forward with their lives."

Kusakabe had at first been mildly surprised by what could be considered Ritsuko's dry ranting on Hibari's demeanour, but the paradoxical content had brought a clearer scowl to his own face, faint with the same amount of resentment that could never constitute true hatred. He argued, "You might say that, but the chairman is as perfectly free as he has always claimed to be."

"Is he, Kusakabe?" Ritsuko pressed after turning to him in a motion slightly faster than all others, the investment in her certainty palpable. As far as Kusakabe could see, while her voice was low and dry as always, the strained hint of desperation, perhaps helplessness had tainted her arguments for the very first time, and Kusakabe watched that with incredulity and the frustration conveyed by his skeptical gaze. "He chooses to stay in school, he chooses to take up debt, he chooses not to care for people, for what? His own entertainment? Then why is he always so restless with people? Unless he starts doing something with his life that doesn't take dominating and beating others on whims, I won't see him the way you do. And if someone like Hibari is going to bother showing up here without needing to, I'll at least use up the little life I have left on doing what _he_ would've done."

The determination of Ritsuko in her decision belied the reason she had spoken to Hibari and forced him to listen when she normally would not even encourage conversation, so Kusakabe stood silent for a few seconds noting that, understanding the link to her purpose, and memories of a past he would never have detailed context on. Though part of him could relate, and even wanted to claim relating, the fact that it was all applied to the chairman ceased most doubts, as Kusakabe shook his head in plain denial of Ritsuko's hypothesis. "But it didn't succeed in the end," Kusakabe said for the sake of argument, so as to expose the wrongfulness that kept his scowl in place the more he envisioned the chairman and his own purpose. "The chairman was only angered, and he hardly paid mind to your words. Did you really think this was the best course of action?"

Ritsuko's eyebrows arched processing the very notion Kusakabe introduced, and she glanced for the window. "Talking to him? Of course not. Hibari doesn't care about words; but I'm powerless to do anything," Ritsuko bluntly explained without regard for another perspective that could possibly contradict her facts, shrugging in the process. "I'm old, tired, and a coward who just wanted to do her job until she couldn't move anymore. I was never meant to impact Hibari's life. There are better people for that."

"You knew it would turn out like this?"

"I had some idea of how he'd react," Ritsuko said, "but I just wanted to feel like I wasn't wasting his time, if anything. I wanted to hope he wouldn't simply be wasting his own time in school, either. That maybe he'd start seeing something more than the stagnation he's surrounded himself in: to me, that's the opposite of living, and I don't need any kindred spirits." Her eyes then narrowed, her gaze drifting now to the thin sheet covering her, and her hands which lay there loosely, trembling involuntarily. "I decided to follow through that promise to see people alive, not to justify my own gloom seeing people whose eyes are inhumanely cold looking at someone else."

Kusakabe noticed he had been tensing throughout the show of her opinions, particularly stricken with sour feelings over the mentions of stagnation and wasting time with the school when speaking of the chairman of all people. He grimaced, truthfully offended, but not quite enough to warrant emotionality so intense. Instead, he confronted Ritsuko's resolved stance with cold composure, though he wryly recalled the times he did see himself almost snapping; at that point, they were only moments of shame in his record with Ritsuko. "I really can't see eye to eye with you on that," Kusakabe said, "Just hearing it honestly makes my blood boil: it's the antithesis of what I see in the chairman."

The willful opposition of her true ideals, surprisingly enough, warranted a smile from Ritsuko, one of half-hearted amusement. "Is that so?" she questioned absent-mindedly, even if Kusakabe could not discern if she was distracted with nothing or deep in thought when her gaze remained away from him.

Regardless, Kusakabe was quick to assert, "The chairman is the sole person I know who can consistently break through stagnation. As far as I can see, he's practically a symbol of freedom on his own. Saying that he perpetuates stagnation runs opposite with all I've ever seen him do for himself, of all he's done for me, in turn: without the chairman, nothing about my own rotten stagnation would have ever change. I would've been no more than a brash delinquent rebelling aimlessly against all the wrong I'd witnessed by perpetuating it back." He clenched his fists, feeling the weight of his memories fueling the ardent tone in which he spoke of the chairman. Surprisingly enough, that had been the first time he had talked of Hibari to that extent, though he would always easily iterate his greatness to the other members. Though, in an environment where he could not sink lower than he had already when it came to exposing himself. "On the other hand, it's this pure freedom that may make the chairman difficult to deal with. He has no such thing as mercy or remorse because he does as he pleases, so there is never a sense of safety in being with the chairman. Even so, I wouldn't have it any other way, because he is the authority figure I know will overcome anything that would come his way and succeed for being bound to nothing at all. If there's anyone that's powerful enough to break the molds people are trapped in, it's the chairman. And I've sworn to support that."

"... Do you think that's his intention?" Ritsuko lowly, albeit gently voiced as her sole reaction to the speech, looking back towards Kusakabe sympathetically. Kusakabe knew she was accepting his logic without necessarily agreeing, and the duality would have him teetering between subtle relief and moderate dissatisfaction, since he was certain she was putting that question to light as a doubt for Kusakabe to consider and possibly use to change his mind.

"No," Kusakabe promptly said with a lopsided smile, "The chairman puts himself above any other. There's nothing he would possibly fight for but his own ideals."

"Then, you're just following someone who isn't even following your own vision," Ritsuko firmly retorted, her voice only dry from the seemingly obvious nature of her conclusion, one that Kusakabe did not even feel the need to question, ironically enough. Rather, his expression softened, the smile genuine with the hints of nostalgia it left, along with pure awe.

"I look up to him, basically," Kusakabe plainly confessed, "I know I'd never come to surpass him, so I've settled on being below him."

The honesty was as if refreshing then, though Kusakabe could not help but notice Ritsuko's hands joining together, grabbing at each other as if for support while she thought in silence. In the midst of that silence, Kusakabe's joy was transitioning to moderate curiosity, and he briefly wondered if she could be pitying the choice, or thinking of a way to say how she disagreed with it, bitterly enough. "Kusakabe," Ritsuko uttered, swiftly cutting through the train of thought with a voice that was surprisingly light with positivity. "In my opinion, you already surpass Hibari."

"What?" However, Kusakabe could not help but sputter that single word from shock he had not even been able to process, especially considering Ritsuko was even smiling. Was it a joke? Some kind of metaphor? Ritsuko's jokes were few and far in between, but that was not a good trait presently, when Ritsuko was not even shaking her head in denial.

"That's why I don't need to tell you anything as any kind of last word," Ritsuko explained, quicker than usual from what could be seen as a bout of hope, of all things. "You don't need me. You don't need anyone **—** You could probably set yourself straight, even if you don't think so. Hibari's not like that: he's got something in him that he can't just surpass on his own. Whatever caused it, I don't even want to know; it's probably something much more severe than anything I went through. You see freedom in him, but to me, he's almost like a shell of a person." Ritsuko had momentarily closed her eyes, as if in somber reflection for the situation she had illustrated, only to stare straight towards Kusakabe resolutely. "You're not too late, though. You can grow out of your problems. You just need to have some more confidence in yourself and keep on living."

Widened eyes saw the smile on Ritsuko intact, and Kusakabe scowled. "You can't possibly mean that. The chairman does whatever he wants unafraid of the consequences," he indignantly insisted, "He's all-powerful. I can't even face my own life properly, and you say that's _better_?"

"I say it's better," Ritsuko countered with equal intensity, almost as if reflexively, "because there's a higher chance you'll face your own life eventually." To prove it was the resulting pause that came with thinking of the rest, and Kusakabe continued to stare incredulously as she frowned in a bitter fashion, only to slowly argue: "You only aren't because you think Tetsuya Kusakabe isn't good enough, but you'd better start thinking he is, because that's who all your friends in the committee look up to, in the end. Not the vice-chairman facade."

"Beyond being the vice-chairman," Kusakabe sharply claimed, "what else is there to 'Tetsuya Kusakabe' at all?" He had almost as if snapped again, recalling the advice he had escaped from, now bitingly told his way without a means to get away from the haunting thoughts of his own self; one Ritsuko would advocate unabashedly, threatening his peace of mind. Unable to stop himself from spouting the truth, perhaps in hopes that she would finally give up, he spit out resentfully, but the contempt found no target in Ritsuko: "'Tetsuya Kusakabe', for your information, is the failure of a former delinquent who can't face the shortcomings of his family's history or his own reprehensible actions, much less his own flaws, but pretends he's striving for improvement anyway. _'Tetsuya Kusakabe'_ is the coward who would always pretend to be enlightened by your advice and never do anything about it because just hearing it was enough for his self-satisfaction, while you go out of your way to thinking he has more to lose than you do. What is there even to compare with the chairman, who never looks back or cowers from anything? _He_ is worth your fear and respect, because he is never static, unlike me. _I'm_ just a simple lowlife taking on a composed front when there's a well of flaws I don't deign to fix!"

While Kusakabe dejectedly noted he had raised his voice again, particularly when it came to something as hurtful as naming his own flaws, Ritsuko was conversely spotted huffing dismissively. A smile then surged on her features, another one from what seemed to be half-hearted, dry amusement. "It's a front only because you're not making it a reality yet," Ritsuko muttered matter-of-factly in light of Kusakabe's words, which seemed to have affected her as much as he should have expected, the more he thought about it.

Kusakabe sighed, showing again a thin frown of hopelessness when meeting her eyes. "What do you see in me, really?" he asked, though unable to bear adding the traces of thought on how she could have simply acknowledged his arguments and left him behind. Ritsuko glanced out the window, the sun's shimmer lightly reflected on her tired eyes while Kusakabe shifted his gaze downwards, to the immaculate hospital floor that reminded him further of the circumstances.

"What I see," Ritsuko responded meanwhile in that familiar dry manners of hers, "is an impatient kid who's thinking it's too late to grow up. But then again, we're no strangers, are we? What I see is Tetsuya Kusakabe: the one student who had a thing for taking what a depressive old lady says seriously."

"And that's better than the chairman?" Kusakabe retorted, raising an eyebrow from the skepticism felt. He tempted the urge to see Ritsuko's expression, knowing it would be a smile, and found from the endeavour that she was staring at him again, eyeing him with the faintest hints of undeserved pride.

"Something I learned from living out my life the way I did is that the moment you truly lose is not the moment you fail, but the moment you give up from trying. Just keep trying, Kusakabe," Ritsuko urged with genuine intent despite her strained voice and loose tone, down even to the additional shrug that Kusakabe regarded now nostalgically. "Do you regret not facing your personal life? Do it now, or later, or whenever it is you finally have the courage for it. Do you regret not taking my advice? Just make it so you take it some other time. It's not like you're on a time limit. The only time limit you have for things like that is your own death."

"But there _is_ another time limit," Kusakabe quickly pressed as the first thing that popped to his mind under the implications of Ritsuko's hopeful explanation. The very proof of his own claim lay precisely in front of him, and his gaze was locked onto to Ritsuko's, nigh lifeless if not for her own motivation in conveying more advice to Kusakabe, which served primarily to intensify the pain stinging through his chest. "After all, what's the point in listening to you if I never live up to your expectations? I talked to you because I felt I'd learn something, but it wasn't just that motivating me to be there. You always worried for me of all people like it was worth it, but all I'd ever done was let you down, even in things that didn't have anything to do with the chairman. Through all of that, you somehow never managed to give up on me, even though I've showed you nothing but my failures." Kusakabe grimaced, looking briefly down towards his tremblings fists while recalling each and every one of the moments that stuck out even to the Kusakabe of later days. "It's frustrating; it'd have actually been easier if you'd just stop seeing hope in me. If you're going out of your way to keep believing me, is it too much to want to pay that back somehow? For once, I'd have wanted you proud that I'd made it without running away. Now, though, I'm doubting I'd have the time for it, knowing how careful you are with yourself."

The very last statements were voiced flatly, dry in almost the same measure Ritsuko could be in her more somber remarks. Though he looked over Ritsuko, he felt nothing when it came to noting her rare show of surprise, marked at first by successively blinking eyes. "Kusakabe..." As if at a loss for words, that name trailed aimlessly, and she frowned with concerned aided by a shaking hand hovering delicately near the right corner of her lips. Clearly, Ritsuko had never even considered that Kusakabe could even say what he did; in her defense, neither did he until he did confess it. However, the mere fact that she thought it that impossible for someone to feel like there was worth in not disappointing her was telling of her lacking confidence, and in turn added to the bitter edge of Kusakabe's grimace. A full moment passed by in expectant silence, and Ritsuko, whose eyes were starting to narrow in a decisive, somber fashion, while her hand joined the other. "It's not good caring about what you could've done now that you can't do it," Ritsuko slowly, though cynically affirmed, as if yet unsure of her word choice, "The best thing you can do, in this case, is move on."

"And forget you?" Kusakabe shot back without hesitation, "Is that what you'll say?"

As if unable to contain it, Ritsuko found herself smiling wryly after processing Kusakabe's guess, uttering, "Heh, you know me too well." She had averted her gaze then, likely understanding the way her answer would affect Kusakabe, but his expression remained remarkably intact in its overall bitterness.

"I'm not doing that, by the way," Kusakabe quickly asserted, "I don't want to forget you. I still need to do something, anything to make up for what you tried giving me. And you're too late to insist."

"What will you do, then? You've got so much ahead of you, so many things to worry over, and you're bothering with _me_ even after I've kicked the bucket?" Ritsuko questioned, doubt evident in her weakened voice as she dismissively shook her head. "You yourself said you didn't have time for anything, so what's the point?"

Kusakabe, collected even in comparison to Ritsuko, frowned faintly in light of her attempt at clouding his judgment with skepticism, but was able to easily conjure the response in his mind. He tensed, eyebrows furrowed, and spoke clearly: "I wouldn't have any closure otherwise. If I'm not able to do any of the things I did want to accomplish, I'll..." Kusakabe paused as he thought of the hypothesis introduced, since he had only now really tried to face the matter. After venting, realizing himself the reason for his own anxiety over the end of Ritsuko's life, Kusakabe found almost a newfound angle to ponder from in that regard, one that, astonishingly enough, allowed him to wonder what he _could_ presently do for Ritsuko when there was no longer the time to physically show her anything to be proud of. He recalled the memories of past discussions, now in a strangely neutral fashion until his train of thought halted on one piece of advice that Ritsuko had dispensed: out of them all, Kusakabe noted, he could feasibly follow through that one. As such, he continued with added confidence, and an added resolve: "I'll at least do for you what you deserve more than any of the people you did tell me to respect. As far as I'm concerned, you're the closest thing I've ever had to actual family."

"... You'll be the only one," Ritsuko lowly stated after slowly tilting her head downwards, staring at her tremblings hands as she reminisced. "Everyone's left me behind by now."

"But I won't," Kusakabe promptly assured, "It's a promise." Suddenly, the sun starting seeming all that much welcoming to Kusakabe, who shifted his gaze to the window and continued to speak: "I'm not sure how long I'll take to be the Tetsuya Kusakabe you saw in me, or if I'll even get there, but I will see to it you'll end up having something to bother watching over from above, whether it's me or the chairman. That's the path I'm choosing for now."

From her attempt at quietly chuckling, Ritsuko coughed in succession midway, though her more gentle smile had returned after she took a deep breath. "See, Kusakabe...?" Ritsuko muttered, "You _are_ a good man."

"I'm not good enough: I'm not nearly powerful or strong enough to manage the things I want to do any time soon; the only closure I'm even getting is in doing the bare minimum for you," Kusakabe bitterly admitted. "Still, if it means I won't regret running away from this, I'll do it for once and do it right, with no exceptions."

"Well, then," Ritsuko lightly said as she directed that smile to Kusakabe, offering it almost in a playful fashion rarely seen in the usually despondent cafeteria lady. With a shrug, she continued: "I can't stop you now, can I? I'll just have to go along with your promise."

"You will," Kusakabe said before mustering an apologetic smile, noticing now the extent of his assertivity in the conversation. "Hopefully you'll forgive me later on. I guess this is just one of my rebellious phases."

"You might as well have them while you're young," Ritsuko loosely excused with a slow wave of her hand. "Just don't go overboard and anger Hibari, will you?"

"Of course. I haven't changed my mind about the chairman, after all. He's still the one person I know I should support as long as I live," Kusakabe said with pride evident in those words, as it should have always been. "So, if anything, I'll just have to make you see that he isn't the hopeless case you think he is."

"What a problem child you are," Ritsuko wryly remarked before rolling her eyes as a comical gesture, displaying almost the energy she would normally possess. "Why don't you go off to school, then? The world isn't waiting around for you." Though he was practically shooed away by Ritsuko then, and perhaps for a good reason, Kusakabe froze in place, staring at her with the shadow of a somber frown. He could see the conversation fading to nothing, ending, and could not bring himself to utter the necessary parting words in light of the implications, affording Ritsuko the time to softly add: "It's better if we say our goodbyes this way, Kusakabe. Who knows? I might just live through this one, anyway." If she even were to accept surgery; Kusakabe grimaced. Naturally, she would never do such a thing if she were allowed, since she let Fate take its course.

However, it was also true that Kusakabe would not bear seeing through her last moments, weak as he still was. He wished for a better tomorrow, and bit his lip. "I'm sorry," Kusakabe said, "for not believing in Tetsuya Kusakabe."

"Say that to yourself," Ritsuko vacantly retorted, "Not to me."

"Then..." Kusakabe remembered all that had led him to that point, and used that as his best reference for a smile of pure joy, the only one he had showed her so far. It was the least he could do, he saddeningly figured, but it was also precisely what he wanted to do for the situation, nullifying its definition as a complete front. "Thank you for everything, ma'am. I won't forget you."

"Out of all things to take up beyond the committee, it had to be this..." Ritsuko peered into Kusakabe's straightforward gaze, perhaps even noting the expression's intent, and sighed. Upon releasing that slight frustration, one that barely counted as such, Ritsuko simply mirrored his expression, and cleanly said, "Don't sweat it, Kusakabe. Just have some fun and trust yourself, will you?"

"... I'll try."

"Good," Ritsuko stated despite the seemingly uncertain response, as if that, to her, had always been the right answer. Though, it was only the correct answer because it happened to be genuine, and Kusakabe took some pride in being able to make the distinction. "Now get out of my sight. I'm tired."

For a few seconds, he looked over Ritsuko, who leaned back on the hospital bed, for once purely content. Her eyes were half-lidded, but not quite about the close as they stared now towards the ceiling with new thought. Considering she was not even facing him, Kusakabe muttered despite his hesitation, "Right. Goodbye, ma'am."

Kusakabe walked away after that, hoping what he responded to would not become her last words, but knowing deep down that they would be. He never did see her alive and breathing again, and the turmoil over the fact had at first assailed him to the point he hesitated in turning up, but he left the school that day to head for the Namimori cemetery. He had never told the chairman or his subordinates the reason for his temporary leave beyond when he had returned, and he was punished by Hibari with more force than usual, revealing his own turmoil on the matter. It had truly been then Kusakabe's eyes had opened to a view of the chairman that involved a side of him that did in fact need support to begin with, but Kusakabe stood by his claims, and saw instead more out of the chairman than ever before, further asserting his loyalty. As such, on the day he had first fulfilled his promise, he wryly figured, the only thing he did regret was forgetting to buy flowers beforehand.

Though, the years after afforded him the chance to make up for the mistake however many times he wished.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Namimori Middle School. Though Hibari no longer stepped foot into the school, the Disciplinary Committee remained active and dedicated to its duties as generations upon generations continued to look up to its very first chairman. Many of the graduating members would later join the Foundation, and the organization welcomed the convenient manpower with open arms in order to ease the global reach of their research. Naturally, the bulk of the recruitment process was entrusted to Kusakabe, and his close relations to school only aided the matter; at least, so went the excuse for continuing to visit.

However, Kusakabe only saw it fit to go to the school because he was never quite as willing to let go as Hibari was, and sometimes 'moving on' was a more wasteful affair than he cared to admit. He commended and respected Hibari for his lack of an attachment to the past, but he would similarly have no regrets stepping for the Reception Room while already surrounded by underclassmen on patrols, all the while admonishing them from leaving behind their posts. The added enjoyment of seeing them nervously averting their gazes due to the compelling argument but never having it in them to return when Kusakabe happened to visit truly solidified the smile he no longer tried to hide, but he would always figure Hibari would have certainly raised his weapons after at most three minutes, his newest record on crowd tolerance. Regardless, Kusakabe was ultimately a different man; the kind that would only put his foot down for cluttering the Reception Room with the traditionally hated crowd.

Though, he never would react to the whispering voices he would hear from the closed door, willfully pretending he heard nothing. The current chairman sighed, scratching his head as if troubled after standing from his seat on that nostalgic desk, and bowed profusely in face of Kusakabe. "Please forgive them," he bitterly urged, "The responsibility for their shortcomings lies on me and me only." Despite everything that could have lowered his impression of it, Kusakabe did like the current Disciplinary Committee: a more lax group though they were, they displayed a true passion for the school's conditions underneath the lack of discipline. That attitude was similarly reflected in their leader, who was only modest out of respect, but was rumoured by his fellow members to be much more assertive outside of his visits.

"You'd do well not to blame yourself if you're meaning to take the first chairman's place," Kusakabe promptly responded in a voice assertive enough that the aspiring young minds would hopefully continue to see admiration in his figure, though he was inwardly just as calm as he was showing himself to be. "Your subordinates have apologized enough. Raise your head, will you?" The current leader slowly complied, and saw on Kusakabe a smirk perfected through the years, enough to have the student's tense stance slightly fade.

"Right," he said as he offered a smile of his own, radiant in its implied promise, "It is an honor to see you in the premises year after year, Kusakabe-san." Then, he looked towards the table situated in the middle of the reception room, and motioned to the couch on the right. "If you'd like, you may take a seat. It could not possibly be enough, but we've prepared tea for the occasion." He inched closer to the opposite couch afterwards for the sake of efficiency, while Kusakabe's attention was drawn to that very table, practically identical to the old one.

Kusakabe had admittedly already taken sight of the single cup and assumed it was reserved for him despite there being no need to have only him partake in the drink. Even so, he could understand the earnest effort that came with displaying the highest amount of respect, so he answered, "Well, then, it wouldn't do to say no to that." He calmly took a seat, watching as the shorter student did the same the slightest bit later than Kusakabe. "I won't stay here for long, though. This is technically a day off, but I'm still expected by Hibari to check on the base and I wouldn't want to keep him waiting."

"Oh, no, we understand," he quickly uttered so as to reassure Kusakabe, "It isn't our intention to hold you here for longer than you would like, of course." However, he then narrowed his eyes, frowning in a seemingly troubled manner, mildly surprising Kusakabe. "Rather, the committee has been busy thinking of some future projects with the current principal, and we'd be entirely thankful to you if we could have your input on the matter."

"Future projects? You sound like you're hard at work there," Kusakabe remarked with the cup already in hand, and he proceeded to take a sip. He had not expected the current leader's admission to trouble, but he figured it best to simply give the underclassman some assurance. "Still, you should know that you don't need mine or Hibari's permission for any school-related matters anymore."

"Well, normally, we wouldn't try to rely on our upperclassmen," he said, "but even the principal thought it a better idea to consult with you, knowing that you would appear here at all costs." Finally, Kusakabe blinked in outward curiosity at the mention of the principal, and not because he was being consulted to begin with. It seemed to have been more advantageous for the committee of the present to use the principal as a reference point and attribute him some authority, and none in the Foundation had naturally protested against the change. Even if there had been members disapproving, Hibari's neutral stance on the matter was enough to sway the members.

As such, Kusakabe could not help but ask, "Is it so revolutionary a change? As far as I can tell, the Disciplinary Committee has already seen such a change from the past it can hardly be recognized." Even the uniform for the committee, before traditional in its style had assumed a more customized shape, rendering the new from the old nigh irreconizable. The extent of the Disciplinary Committee's progressive streak still saw no end, so Kusakabe was understandably frowning in confusion.

"... It has come to our attention that the first chairman was particularly strict about the prohibition of a cafeteria in the premises," he lowly explained, as if reluctant, "And while we hold full respect for the decisions of our predecessors, there have been many voices contesting it would be a better investment to re-introduce the cafeteria, if only so there can be less students endangered by the outside. A space where the student body can collectively and reliably have lunch would be ideal for the peace of the school environment and the efficiency of the committee's patrols, or so we thought..."

The current leader's explanation had trailed off unceremoniously from the level of insecurity on the decision, and Kusakabe had his eyes pensively narrowed after noting that to be the ending of the circumstances. "I see," he muttered, "The cafeteria, huh..."

"While it is true the old committee would have no direct influence over the current regulations, we would like to hold true to its will while ensuring the harmony of the school environment," the current leader of the committee cooly added after noticing his unbecoming hesitation, eyeing Kusakabe with the dedication that belied his position, "it would be particularly helpful to have a reference point for the matter when it seems as though the cafeteria was closed down entirely of the first chairman's accord." At the very least, Kusakabe knew that there was already a consensus among the committee itself for the decision, illustrated by the firm nature of the boy's arguments. He nodded in acknowledgment of the fact, and locked more nonchalant eyes with the current leader's.

"I can see why you'd think of consulting me now of all times," Kusakabe commented just as sternly, "Though, I must say..." He pondered on how to best respond to the leader's troubles in that very pause, even if the core of the answer had always been clear on his mind, and found his expression softening after the fact, the change brought about by hints of nostalgia. "There's truly nothing to worry about at this point. In the past, perhaps, it could have been dangerous even mentioning the prospect, but you see..." Kusakabe knowingly smirked once more after taking another sip of the tea, only to confidently continue to speak: "Hibari is not simply a static ideal to follow. Rather, it should be assumed he only continues to improve and change the more he grasps his goals. As such, the committee should strive to follow that example and embrace the freedom the first chairman has given to it. I'm sure it will pay off in the end."

So said Kusakabe winningly at the time and certainly had not meant to deceive Hibari's descendant, but he had realized after walking out of the reception room that he had truthfully never brought the topic of the cafeteria up since the first time he had been beaten for it. As old habits would not so easily die, Kusakabe had neglected to even think of the prospect before it was brought to light at all, and he looked back on his time at the cemetery. He would often claim that Ritsuko had been proven wrong, but how decisively could he do so without having even touched upon one of his biggest problems? As of now, Hibari was on his way to getting the tiniest bit used to crowds, and he traveled the world with Kusakabe in tow, who he would call 'Tetsu' without reservations.

It would not be so surprising to see Hibari accepting the cafeteria now, would it? Kusakabe had smiled as he walked, since he had undoubtably formed his greatest plan for the cafeteria lady above, and he would see it through his own way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I wrote: The Cafeteria - Kusakabe's side
> 
> What I expected: Straightforward analysis of neat Kusakabe headcanons oh yeah and since he's not Hibari I can depict humane feels now
> 
> What I got: Kusakabe's overly long emotional rollercoaster of agony and ANGST omg everybody please help me uh I mean Kusakabe—
> 
> Considering the dastardly character limit in this site, I'll have to be brief about the multitude of points I have about Kusakabe. In essence, I ended up going above and beyond to find canon sources to base myself off for this interpretation of Kusakabe, the main one being the sole pre-canon portrayal of Kusakabe existent in the series, the light novel chapter about Hibari and Ryohei. Kusakabe there was portrayed in a rather humane light, displaying fear of Hibari but the notion of an intrinsic duty and loyalty that he can't break as the vice-chairman. Additionally, Kusakabe is seen there as someone who assumes composure rather than being naturally composed, and the light novel chapter depicts a sort of conflict between Kusakabe as the vice-chairman and Kusakabe as an individual so I took that as reference and ran with it because it was really interesting. 
> 
> The past Kusakabe in this chapter, as such, is supposed to be a kind of starting point in the development of Kusakabe into his future self, which isn't too far from alligning with the path outlined by the light novel. This Kusakabe has a bunch more problems than in the light novel, and that's because he's from a past more distant than when Ryohei came along, so you could say the light novel Kusakabe is the guy who's still struggling with things even after Ritsuko's death, but gosdh darn it he's trying.
> 
> Speaking of Ritsuko (Satomi?), you finally get to know her name because Kusakabe bothers to remember stuff normal people do. Kusakabe is also officially listed as 14 years old and this personally offends me since it makes no sense whatsoever; I have honestly no idea where the wiki gets its sources for character ages but they're wrong since what I'm saying comes from an official art book =/ Though, I WISH Kusakabe were 16, hahaha. 
> 
> Anyway, Kusakabe's side is supposed to be a kind of contrasting side to Hibari's, even when it comes to format and structure: while Hibari's is centered on a status quo, Kusakabe's is supposed to be something with a beginning and end that's supposed to also add to Hibari's chapter and tie up loose ends. This is also why this chapter ended up super long, but can you believe me when I tell you this is actually the short version? This is what I got after I cut dialogue and scenes from the chapter, so you can only imagine how big it originally was! I wanted to have the word counts somewhat consistent, but all these scenes are just so necessary that I can't really delete them at this point. If anything, I feel like this story is so straightforward that it could use some more fluff so you could see Kusakabe and Ritsuko interacting better, but it'd just become even longer, ugh.
> 
> Needless to say writing this chapter took so long because of the length, though I did just plain struggle in trying to portray Kusakabe. Ritsuko herself, I sort of had planned, so the most she'd do is play off of Kusakabe and get some more stuff revealed because there's a whole platonic relationship going on here. Originally, Kusakabe wasn't even going to get a chapter, so it's kind of a given I had to think him up almost from scratch, even if I was already planning on this side midway into Hibari's side. Regardless, when it comes to Ritsuko herself, she honestly ends up revealing her flawed nature the more each side progresses, which I see as a good thing. She's more of a somber existence than anything, but I do like her because she's not just a somber existence and instead has all these facets to her that make up more than just some depressive old lady. It helps that she was never supposed to be all that sad a character, since I was going more for a cafeteria lady who's tired of everybody's stuff angle.
> 
> I give some hints to what could be a backstory for Kusakabe, but these are naturally all headcanons that I used to aid the conceptualization of the themes of the chapter, and they're all pretty much interchangeable as far as I'm concerned. Since Kusakabe doesn't get a lot of appearances in the series, you could go a lot of ways with his character, so I accept just about anything, a bit like my stance on Hibari. Though, Hibari just happens to be mysterious enough that this applies, while Kusakabe is just sort of a background character. Kusakabe needs some love, I only won't give anymore because this whole chapter's enough lol
> 
> Whatever the case, thank you very much for reading! Getting this far is a true achievement.


End file.
